Castor and Pollux
by penandra
Summary: Final chapter posted in the saga bringing Jackson Gibbs and Hank Booth together after a nearly 70 year estrangement. Jethro Gibbs (NCIS) and Seeley Booth (Bones), with help from characters from BOTH series, work a case. A collaboration between Penandra and FaithInBones. Thank you for welcoming us to the NCIS fandom. It's been a fun journey.
1. Chapter 1

_FaithInBones and I were exchanging emails about the actor that plays Gibbs' father on NCIS and Booth's grandfather on Bones. Rather than them being the same person, one of us (I don't remember which of us now, and I'm unwilling to go check ;-D) posited that perhaps they are identical twins "Jackson" and "Hank" . . . . but why would they have different last names? Adopted? Switched at birth? Strangers who look alike? Daddy was the milkman?_

_Well, all of those were intriguing ideas. Those of you who follow FaithInBones in the Bones fandom, may have figured out that all one needs to do is suggest an inkling of a story and she is off and running! She's amazing! As a result of our email exchange, a collaboration was born, and thus this fic._

_If there is interest in the story, we will be posting on Fridays. We are both aware that fics seem to get lost in the crossover area, so FaithInBones will be posting the story in the Bones fandom, and I will be posting here in the NCIS fandom. Because of how we are handling the writing and editing, the chapters in the two fandoms will be nearly identical. However, we are both tweakers of stories, so there may be some things that she tweaks before posting, that I don't . . . there may be some things that I tweak, that she let's slide. None of the differences will be germane to the story line - and, like identical twins - the differences may be hard to find, so you won't have to read the same chapter in each fandom (unless you would like to)._

_We both love reviews, and would love to hear what you think about our exploration of the familial relationship between Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Seeley Joseph Booth. We hope it's a fun ride for you . . . . we're having lots of fun with it!_

_BTW, in case anyone may have believed otherwise, neither one of us is an owner of either Bones or NCIS._

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Booth was sitting in his office talking to Charlie when 'Hot Blooded' sounded from under a pile of reports on his desk. Balancing a pile of folders, Booth found the phone and answered the call, "Booth".

"Hey, Booth." Brennan said in an apologetic tone, "I'm going to have to stay later tonight. A body is being sent over from NCIS. Their Medical Examiner, Cam knows him his name's Donald Mallard, called and wants help identifying a body that was found at Naval Station Norfolk a couple of days ago. He's making arrangements to have the body sent to the Jeffersonian this afternoon and he and a Special Agent Gibbs will be escorting the body. I expect them to arrive in about thirty minutes."

Feeling the hair rise on the back of his neck, Booth scowled. "Gibbs? Not Jethro Gibbs?"

Surprised, Brennan replied, "Yes. Yes, it is Jethro Gibbs. Do you know him?"

Sighing, Booth thumped his left fist against the top of his desk, "I've never met him; but, I know who he is. I'll be over in a little while."

"That's not necessary, Booth." Brennan replied, "If you could pick up Christine from Daycare, you can just head home. Hodgins and Cam are staying and I'll ask one of them to drive me home when I'm ready."

"No, that's okay. I'll pick up Christine; but, I'm coming by the Lab. I'll ask Angela if she could watch her for awhile." Trying to keep the strain from his voice, Booth continued, "I want to meet this Jarhead Gibbs."

"Booth is this a military thing?" Brennan questioned.

Laughing, Booth replied, "No it's a family thing, Bones. Gibbs is a relative. I promise I'll explain tonight. I have to go. I'll see you in a couple of hours. I love you."

Ending his call, Booth immediately called his grandfather. "Hey Pops, guess who's about to walk into the Jeffersonian to work with Bones."

"I'm fine, Seeley. Thank you for asking. Good to hear from you, too." Hank Booth responded to his grandson. "Now that we have the greetings out of the way, who is working with Temperance?"

"Sorry, Pops." Booth apologized. "I guess I was a little distracted. Anyway, _Special _Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service is on his way over to the Jeffersonian."

"Seeley, watch that temper of yours. I mean it. Leroy doesn't have anything to do with that business between Jackson and me. Your father should have never told you about it in the first place. I want it forgotten. It's done. We're done."

"I'm not going to cause any trouble Pops. I'm just letting you know that I'm finally going to meet the famous Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

"Seeley."

"Pops, don't worry about it. It's cool. I'm cool. I have to go. I'll talk to you later. Bones and I will bring Christine up to see you this weekend. We'll call on Saturday to set up a time. Okay?" Booth asked.

"Don't try to change the subject on me young man. You behave yourself with Jethro. I mean it." Hank replied.

"Love you, Pops. Talk to you Saturday." Booth responded and quickly disconnected the call.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Arriving at the Lab, Booth carried Christine over to Angela's office. Glancing up at the platform as he walked by, Booth saw that Brennan's company had already arrived. He assumed that the tall silver haired man standing near the top of the steps was Gibbs, Booth stopped and studied the man. Although he wore civies, and the haircut was a bit shaggy for a Marine, Booth recognized the military bearing.

Gibbs, feeling someone staring at him, turned to see a tall, dark haired man holding a baby in his arms. The cold look the man gave him caused him to wonder who he was.

Booth scowled, raised his eyebrows and turned to walk down the hallway to Angela's office. Entering her office, Booth smiled, "Hey Angela, did Bones ask if you'd be able to watch Christine for a little while?"

Nodding her head, Angela stood up and walked across the room holding her hands out toward the baby. Pulling Christine into her arms, Angela walked over to the playpen she had set up in the corner of her office. "Yes, of course, it's fine." As she placed Christine in the playpen she looked back at Booth, "Bren seemed a little confused when she asked, but you go ahead, Christine and Michael can bond. I'll be right here. I have a few things I need to take care of before I can go home for the day, anyway."

Smiling, Booth exclaimed, "Thanks, Angela! You're the best."

Nodding, Angela laughed, "Yeah, I know."

Ooooooooooooooooooooo

Arriving at the steps to the platform, Booth slid his card through the reader and walked slowly up the steps. The silver-haired man had moved around to the other side of the platform and watched the newcomer as he came up onto the platform. Cam, Bones, and an elderly man with glasses stood looking down at what Booth assumed was the victim.

Ignoring Gibbs, Booth walked over to the exam table and asked, "That's the body?"

Looking up from the table, Cam replied, "That's what we've been told."

Brennan watching Cam pick up pieces and study them, remarked, "Dr. Mallard says the body was found in several bags behind the NEX."

Pursing his lips, Booth replied, "How can you tell it's a body? It looks like dog food to me."

Holding up a human eye, Brennan responded, "There are two of these."

Nodding his head, Booth replied, "Ok, yeah I see."

Hearing Gibbs laugh quietly, Booth ignored him and walked over to the railing on the opposite side of the platform and leaned against the railing. Staring at the other man with an expressionless face, Booth pulled his poker chip out of his pocket and started rubbing it between his thumb and index finger.

Curious, Gibbs walked over to where Booth was standing and asked, "And who are you?"

Ignoring him, Booth turned and stared at Brennan and Cam.

Daisy, standing next to Brennan decided that she'd answer the question. "That's Special Agent Seeley Booth. He's liaison between the FBI and the Jeffersonian."

Feeling Booth turn his frown toward her, Daisy hunched her shoulders and turned back to look at the body bits on the table.

Gibbs, stared at Booth, reached out his hand and introduced himself, "I'm NCIS. Special Agent Leroy Gibbs."

Ignoring the out-stretched hand and shrugging his shoulders, Booth pushed away from the railing and walked past Gibbs toward the stairs. Standing in front of the stairs, Booth stared at Brennan for a few minutes. "I'm going to Angela's office, Bones. If you need me for anything, I'll be there."

Puzzled, Gibbs watched Booth walk down the stairs and down the hallway. Ducky, having witnessed Booth's rudeness, walked over to Gibbs and asked, "Do you know him?'

Staring at the retreating Booth, Gibbs replied, "Maybe. I'm not sure."

With a slight smile on his face, Ducky folded his arms across his chest, "Well apparently he knows you."

Brennan, glancing towards Gibbs, remarked, "I think Booth is related to you."

Surprised, Ducky looked back at Gibbs, "Oh. That's interesting."

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_For those of you with a question about the title of the story. If you are having trouble remembering your Greek mythology, feel free to google or search on wikipedia for the story of Castor and Pollux. And please don't ignore that little blue button. We really would like to hear from you. Please take just a moment to drop us a review._


	2. Chapter 2

_FaithInBones and I greatly appreciate the kind comments to Chapter 1 of our little collaboration. We're having great fun with this._

_If you're enjoying our story, you might want to check out some of the other crossover stories between NCIS and Bones (Dyna63 has a great fic that she is posting there right now that's well worth a look!)_

_We own neither NCIS nor Bones . . . (in case anyone else really thought otherwise) . . . but it's interesting to dream about having that kind of control over Gibbs or Booth, isn't it? ;-D  
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**Chapter 2**

Staring at the small pieces of remains lying on the table before him, Ducky continued with his briefing of Doctors Temperance Brennan and Camille Saroyan, "Of course we ran a toxicology screening. It came back negative for illicit drugs and poisons. The only drug our Forensic Technician Abby Sciuto found in the victim's remains was caffeine and there seemed to be a lot of that."

Finished with her initial examination of the body bits, Brennan rendered an opinion, "Once the flesh has been removed from the bones, I believe I should be able to reconstruct the skeleton. The pieces are small; but not so small that I can't put them back together. I know you told me that you ran DNA and were unsuccessful; but, I believe that if I am able to reconstruct the skull, Angela should be able to do a facial reconstruction. If I am able to reconstruct the rest of the bones we may be able to determine cause of death."

Removing her latex gloves, Brennan glanced at Daisy and then back at Ducky, "Ms. Wick will remove the flesh and I should be able to start my reconstruction tomorrow. I will contact you when we've determined the identity of the victim."

Smiling, Ducky remarked, "You seem very confident that you'll be able to reconstruct the bones, Dr. Brennan."

Nodding her head, Brennan replied, "Yes, I am. I'm the best anthropologist in the country. It's what I do. It's what we do."

Gibbs standing over near the staircase, smiled at Dr. Brennan's conviction and apparent lack of modesty. He liked competent people and from the way she was treated by her co-workers, and the information he'd received from Director Vance before they came over, it was obvious that Dr. Temperance Brennan was very competent indeed.

Turning to Cam, Brennan remarked, "Booth will want to be kept apprised of our findings."

Nodding her head, Cam glanced at Gibbs and then back at Brennan, "I'll make sure he's copied when I send out emails."

Clearing his throat, Gibbs stepped closer to the exam table, "This victim was found at Naval Station Norfolk. This investigation is a matter for NCIS, not the FBI."

Shrugging her shoulders, Brennan replied, "Booth is my partner. If I am involved in this case then so is he. If that's a problem for you then I will have to decline my services. It's up to you."

Nodding, Gibbs smiled and met her direct gaze. "Fair enough. This is still an NCIS case; but, if you think Agent Booth would like to be involved in the investigation then I won't object. It won't be the first time we've worked with the FBI."

Nodding her head, Brennan walked across the platform and down the stair case. Gibbs watched as she walked down the hallway and into the office Agent Booth had entered earlier. Turning to Cam, Gibbs smiled, "I noticed that Agent Booth had a child in his arms when he first entered. Are Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan married?"

Smiling, Cam replied, "They live together."

Nodding his head, Gibbs turned to Ducky, "Ready to go?"

Picking up his jacket and hat from the chair where he had placed them, Ducky gestured toward the stairs, "After you, Jethro. After you."

Oooooooooooooooooooooo

Walking into Angela's office, Brennan found Booth sitting on the couch holding Christine and talking to Angela.

Booth stood up as Brennan entered, "So, are you ready to go?"

Smiling, Brennan replied, "Let me go to my office to get my purse and coat and I'll be ready."

Turning to Angela, Booth smiled, "Thanks for keeping me company Angela."

Following Brennan out of the room, Booth stopped and watched Gibbs and Ducky as they walked toward the exit.

Feeling eyes on him, Gibbs turned to see the clearly hostile agent watching him, he smiled, gave a mock salute, and kept walking. Booth squinted his eyes and watched the two men as they exited through the main entrance. Brennan, walked out of her office and observed the look on Booth's face.

"Is there something wrong, Booth?"

Turning to look at her, Booth smiled as he shook his head, "No. Nothing's wrong."

"Are you going to tell me how you're related to Agent Gibbs?

Flicking his eyes toward the empty entrance, Booth replied, "Yeah, let's wait until we get home."

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Christine was in bed and Booth and Brennan were relaxing on the couch in the living room.

Staring at the darkened TV on the wall, Booth grimaced., "Agent Gibbs is my father's first cousin. You've never met him; but Pops has a twin brother named Jackson Gibbs. It's kind of complicated. Pops and Jackson's parents had only been married for a few months when they got divorced. Even though my great-grandmother was pregnant, apparently they had quickly discovered that they really couldn't stand each other; so they divorced. It was really very unusual for the time. When the pregnancy resulted in twins, Jackson stayed with great-grandma Mona Gibbs and Pops went with their father, Joseph Hanks Booth. Mona moved back to Stillwell, Pennsylvania to be near her family and Joseph and Pops stayed in Philadelphia close to great-grandpa's family. Apparently, even though it was the late 1920's, and they had found they couldn't be married to each other, they seemed to be rather progressive in the divorce. Pops told me that Mona and Joseph wanted to make sure that their sons stayed in touch with each other; so, Jackson and Hank would visit each other during the summer and share some holidays. They got along fairly well when they were kids. Pops said it was fun to introduce Jackson Gibbs as his brother and see the confusion on people's faces. He said the fun part was not explaining." Booth laughed and shook his head.

Brennan smiled back at his amused response.

Booth continued, "Pops said he was sure that it created some scandalous stories that went around about them; but, Pops and Jackson didn't care. They liked to upset the apple cart."

Puzzled, Brennan interrupted Booth narrative. "Why would they upset an apple cart?"

Laughing, Booth placed his right arm around Brennan's shoulders, "It's a saying. It means they liked to defy convention."

Smiling, Brennan asked, "Why didn't you just say that?"

Shaking his head, Booth continued, "Ok . . . When Pops and Jackson were sixteen years old they went on a fishing trip with their Dad. While they were out on the boat, Joseph let Jackson drive the boat. I'm not really clear on what exactly happened, but what I gathered from what Pops told me was that Jackson ran over an underwater obstruction and it holed the boat. Pops was knocked unconscious and when he woke up he was in the water with a life vest on and his head being held above the water by Jackson. Their father was missing. Jackson told Pops that their father had drowned. There were only two life vests in the boat and their father had grabbed the vests before the boat sank. He insisted that Jackson put on one and then they put the other one on Pops. Joseph tread water for hours; but, I guess he became exhausted and after awhile he couldn't do it anymore. Jackson had fallen asleep holding Pops and he didn't notice their father was missing until it was too late. Pops told me that he and Jackson were rescued by a passing fisherman. Pops ended up in the hospital with hypothermia and a broken leg and Jackson was hospitalized for hypothermia."

Sighing, Booth hugged Brennan, "Pops said he refused to talk to Jackson after that. He blamed Jackson for their father's death. As far as Pops was concerned, Jackson had killed their father. Pops refused to go live with his mother; so his Dad's brother Henry took him in and he stayed in Phillie."

"Is that why you don't like Agent Gibbs?"

Shaking his head, Booth replied, "Nope. I don't like Gibbs because he's an asshole. . . Hey, it's getting late. Let's go to bed. If you have to put that human jigsaw puzzle back together you're going to need your rest."

Frowning, Brennan asked, "Won't you tell me why you dislike Gibbs?"

Shaking his head, Booth replied, "Maybe someday. But, I don't want to talk about it right now. Ok?"

Nodding her head, Brennan replied, "You know you can tell me anything."

Sighing, Booth leaned over and kissed her, "Yeah, I know. It's just . . . I don't want to talk about it right now . . . maybe later."

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Driving back to NCIS headquarters to pick up Ducky's car, Gibbs told Ducky about the boating accident. "What was weird was the fact that even though Hank Booth blamed my Dad for their father's death, when the Coast Guard interviewed him about the accident, Hank swore that their father was driving the boat and not my Dad. Dad tried to take the blame; but Hank swore that Jackson was just feeling guilty that there were only two life vests and that their father drowned. The Coast Guard believed Hank and they closed the case."

Shaking his head, Ducky remarked, "That's strange. Hank blamed your father for their father's death and yet he lied to the Coast Guard to protect his brother."

Shrugging his shoulders, Gibbs responded, "People do unexpected things."

"Why does Agent Booth hate you? It's patently obvious that he can't stand the sight of you."

Coming to a stop at a red light, Gibbs glanced at Ducky, "I tried to mend fences between Dad and Hank after I entered the Marines. I was tired of the crap; so, I thought maybe I could fix it. When Hank Booth refused to see me, I tracked down his son, Joseph. I was stationed at Naval Station Philadelphia for awhile; so I took the opportunity to find him while I was there."

Seeing the light change to green, Gibbs continued their trip, "That guy turned out to be a real piece of work. He'd been a pilot in the Air Force and he was shot down over Vietnam. He was hurt so badly that his career as a pilot was over. When I met him he was working at his uncle's barber shop in Philadelphia. I visited with him for a few weeks and we seemed to get along pretty good; but, the guy was a drunk and it wasn't too long before I found out he was a wife beater. It pissed me off. One day I was over at his house and he was drunk as hell. His wife did something and I really don't know what it was; but he reached out and slapped her hard . . . hard enough to draw blood. I lost it and I beat the shit out of him. I told him that if he ever laid a hand on her or their sons again I'd kill his sorry ass."

Flicking his eyes at Ducky, Gibbs finished his story, "I was transferred overseas a few months later; so, I couldn't keep an eye on him. Maybe his son blames me for the continued abuse, I don't know."

"Ah, the son is Agent Booth?"

Sighing, Gibbs grimaced, "Yep."

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_Reviews are greatly appreciated. Any good? Believable? Let us know what you think. Just click that little blue button. Yup. That's the one!_


	3. Chapter 3

_We each looked under our trees, on our (respective) front door steps, and I even looked in the backyard to see if something fell out of Santa's sleigh as he took off for his next delivery. Unfortunately, neither of us received either NCIS or Bones for Christmas. So, even though we hoped the chubby guy in the red suit would come through for us, it didn't happen. _

_Still neither of us own NCIS or Bones. But we appreciate having their characters on loan and hope you like what we do with them (a review would let us know ;-D)._

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Sitting in his office, going over some reports for Deputy Director Cullen, Booth glanced up when Senior Agent Tobias Fornell knocked on the doorframe. Sticking his head in the doorway Fornell raised an eyebrow and asked, "Booth? You have a minute?"

Gesturing for the other agent to enter, Booth put down his pen and regarded Fornell as he made himself comfortable in the chair across from the desk. Booth crossed his arms and looked inquisitively at the other agent.

"What can I do for you, Fornell?"

Smiling, Fornell replied, "A little Navy birdie told me that you're sharing a case with NCIS. Since I'm usually the liaison between NCIS and the FBI, I thought I'd give you the chance to hand the case over to me."

Shaking his head, Booth smiled, "No thanks. I guess their Director, Vance is it?" At Fornell's nod, Booth continued, "called Dr. Saroyan over at the Jeffersonian. They asked for Bones' help with a human jigsaw puzzle that was found down at Norfolk. They were able to extract DNA, but there wasn't any match in the database. They're hoping the squints can determine identity. Since she's my partner I'll be handling the case. Although I do appreciate your offer."

Nodding his head, Fornell crossed his legs and placed his clasped hands on top of his knees, "You do know that NCIS can be, shall we say, a bit of a challenge to work with, don't you? Agent Gibbs can be very controlling when it comes to his cases. He's not known for playing well with others."

Frowning, Booth met Fornell's unwavering gaze, "I know Gibbs' reputation. It doesn't bother me. If he wants Bones' cooperation then he'll have to play nice with me. He won't have a lot of choice."

Shaking his head, Fornell responded, "Well, if you change your mind let me know. I have a couple of cases I'm working on; but, nothing very urgent."

Nodding in acknowledgement, Booth asked, "What do think of Gibbs, personally?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Fornell replied, "He's a pretty stand up guy. He's fairly honest and he's a hell of a detective. You'll think he's a tough son-of-a-bitch when you meet him; but, he believes in justice and he always tries to give closure to the families of the victims. He hates for the bad guy to get away with anything; so he can be pretty pushy about the job."

Smiling grimly, Booth looked down at his desk and then back at Fornell, "Oh, I've met the famous Gibbs. I just wanted your take on the guy, that's all."

Curious, Fornell asked, "You've met him? Where?"

Fingers entwined, Booth placed his hands on top of his desk and leaned forward, "He's my father's cousin."

Caught off guard, Fornell exclaimed, "No shit? I hope that doesn't mean you and I are related!"

Booth looked at Fornell in surprise, "What's that supposed to mean? You're related to Gibbs, too?"

Laughing, Fornell responded, "Not really. He used to be my husband-in-law."

Looking questionably at Fornell, Booth raised an eyebrow, "Come again?"

Fornell barked out a laugh, then explained, "Booth! Not like that. My second ex-wife is also Gibbs' second ex-wife. When Diane introduced us, she called him my husband-in-law and it just kind of stuck."

Chuckling, Booth replied, "You have my sympathy, Fornell. You have my sympathy!"

B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B

Although Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo had never been to the Jeffersonian before; he'd heard of the reputation of the Medico-Legal Lab and was intrigued. Walking into the Lab after picking up his visitor's badge at security, he looked around for Dr. Brennan's office using the general directions Gibbs had given him. Walking up to the doorway of what he thought might be her office, DiNozzo knocked on the doorframe and smiled appreciatively at the beautiful woman inside.

Brennan looked up from the intern's paper she was grading. "Yes?"

Entering the room, DiNozzo smiled, "Dr. Temperance Brennan? I'm NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. Agent Gibbs asked me to bring these reports by and see how it's going with our John Doe."

Brennan reached over and logged off her computer, leaned back in her chair and responded, "My intern, Ms. Wick, is cleaning the bones of their flesh. I expect that process to be completed by this afternoon. Once that's finished I will be able to start my work."

Nodding his head and taking in the shelves behind her desk and the artifacts against the back wall, he remarked, "You have a very interesting office, Dr. Brennan."

Waiting, Brennan watched DiNozzo's eyes flick back towards her.

DiNozzo, stepped closer to her desk and placed the envelope on top of her desk. "So, since we're waiting for results, would you like to go to lunch with me? I know a nice little bar not too far from here that serves great wine and food."

Smiling, Brennan stood up and walked towards the door. DiNozzo, a little surprised that the line had worked on her, smiled only to hear a voice behind him, "Sorry Romeo, Bones is going to lunch with me."

DiNozzo turned to look at the man getting up from the couch and moving towards the coat rack in the corner of the room. Taking a jacket from the rack, Booth moved to stand behind Brennan and held her jacket as she shrugged into it.

"Oh yeah?" DiNozzo replied. "That's too bad. Their wine list is really very good."

Shrugging his shoulders, Booth remarked, "We don't drink wine during the day. The FBI frowns on drunken agents."

Laughing, DiNozzo replied, "NCIS doesn't have a sense of humor either." He stretched his hand toward the man in front of him, "I'm Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. I was just dropping off some reports for Dr. Brennan."

Shaking the proffered hand, Booth introduced himself, "Special Agent Seeley Booth, FBI." Looking questionably at Brennan and seeing her brief nod, Booth looked back at DiNozzo, "I'll tell you what, you give me the name of that bar and you can go to lunch with Bones and me, my treat."

Puzzled at the offer, DiNozzo responded, "Oh. Ok. Why do you want to go to lunch with me?"

Smiling, Booth answered, "Bones and I are going to be working with you on this case and I don't think it would hurt to get to know who we're working with."

Shrugging his shoulders, DiNozzo remarked, "Alright. You pay for lunch and I'll tell you the name of the bar."

B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B

Entering the Founding Fathers, DiNozzo laughed and turned towards Booth. "I love irony."

Puzzled, Booth asked, "What do you mean?"

Pointing at the bar, DiNozzo replied, "This is the bar that serves the great wine and food."

Booth glanced at Brennan and then back to DiNozzo, "I don't remember ever seeing you here."

Shrugging his shoulders, DiNozzo responded, "It has a reputation as an FBI bar; so, I only come here when I have a date with someone special."

"And you wanted to bring Bones here for lunch because you think she's special?" Booth peered more closely at DiNozzo.

Seeing a mine field spreading out before him, DiNozzo remarked, "Sorry, I didn't realize that she was taken."

Annoyed at the turn of the conversation, Brennan remarked, "I am not taken. I am Booth's partner and his mate, not his property."

Realizing that he was walking from the mine field towards a yawning chasm, DiNozzo laughed, shrugged his shoulders and put his hands up in surrender, "Ok I didn't mean to offend anyone. I saw a beautiful woman and I tried to take her out to lunch. I didn't realize that she had a . . . a mate; so, like I said, no offense intended." He looked from Booth to Brennan and then back to Booth again.

"None taken, Agent DiNozzo. Bones is a very beautiful woman." Booth smiled towards Bones and gestured towards an empty table.

Shaking her head, Brennan walked away from the two Alpha males and over to the table. Sitting down, Brennan stared at Booth.

Booth, getting the message, laughed and walked over to the table and sat next to Brennan. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. As he pulled back, he whispered just low enough for her to hear, "I love you Bones." Brennan turned and tried to keep a stern look on her face, but Booth spotted the slight upturn at the edge of her mouth. Brennan looked up as a server approached their table with menus.

DiNozzo resigned to his fate, sat down across from the committed couple and as he reached for the outstretched menu, asked, "Does this bar serve Humble Pie?"

Laughing, Booth reached for a menu and handed it to DiNozzo.

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_We know that not everyone that reads also leaves reviews, and that for those reading on smartphones, eReaders, and tablets, it's a little more challenging to leave a review. That being said, we appreciate all of your reviews in each of the fandoms. Reviews are how we know that you're reading (and enjoying) this story and it encourages us to work on the next chapter._

_Chapter 4 next Friday . . . . until then, we hope y'all stay safe and sane through the upcoming New Year's holiday._


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites! It's always nice to know someone is reading our story! Thanks to my fellow collaborator, FaithInBones. Neither of us own either NCIS or Bones . . . . but it's fun to think about!_

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Once they had been cleaned, Brennan sorted the bones by size as she laid them out on the exam tables. She moved the smaller bones over to a second table while Daisy was given the job of sorting the larger pieces. "Ms. Wick, I'll take all of the bones that appear to be from the skull and I'll work on getting them glued back together. I'd like you to position and examine the larger fragments that we retrieved."

"Ok, Dr. Brennan," Daisy replied. "You're thinking that if you can get enough of the skull assembled, maybe Angela can do a facial reconstruction, isn't that right?"

"Absolutely, Ms. Wick."

"Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo said that they were going to work on the police side of the investigation while we're working on the bones," Brennan explained. "Their Dr. Mallard and forensic specialist Ms Scuito might be by later tomorrow to share the information they've been able to gather so far. I'll want to meet with Dr. Mallard and have Ms. Scuito meet with Dr. Hodgins."

"But isn't that what Agent Booth usually does, Dr. Brennan? NCIS isn't taking over the investigation are they? I would imagine Agent Booth wouldn't be very pleased with that. Does he even know about this, Dr. Brennan? I wouldn't want to be around when he finds out, he can be very territorial. . ." Daisy let the rest of the sentence drop when she saw the look on her mentor's face.

"Ms. Wick, I hardly think that is any of your concern. Dr. Saroyan is coordinating everything with Director Vance of NCIS and Agent Booth is involved at all levels of the investigation. Apparently, another NCIS agent, an Agent McGee, was able to track down some security video from outside the Navy Exchange." Dr. Brennan responded. "Our job is to get this skull put together and to sort the bones to see what we have. If that is too much for you to handle, I'm sure that there is another intern who would be happy to assist me."

"Oh no, Dr. Brennan, I'm sorry. I just didn't want Agent Booth to be upset about being cut out of the investigation." Daisy responded. "I saw how he was looking at Agent Gibbs and it seemed like they might already know each other, and I . . ."

"Ms. Wick!" Brennan cut in to Daisy's chatter. "If you do not get to work on the bones, I will call in another intern. Will that be necessary?"

"No, Dr. Brennan. I'm working on the bones now," Daisy replied contritely.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

"DiNozzo, I want you and Ziva to interview everyone that worked at the NEX as well as the manager;" Gibbs caught the eye of his senior agent. "See if any of the employees recall seeing anyone carrying a couple of garbage bags and putting them next to the dumpster. The manager said that all employees are responsible for cleaning the trash from their department at the close of each shift, and everything goes into the dumpster before the close of the day."

"Yes, Boss," DiNozzo nodded at Gibbs as he responded.

"We'll verify that the employees are following store procedure, Gibbs," Ziva David elaborated. "If they are following the store's procedures, one of them might have noticed someone leaving bags next to the dumpster."

"I'm going over the film from the store security cameras now, Boss, " Agent Tim McGee informed Gibbs. "The store closes at 18:00 on Mondays, they're closed on Tuesdays, open 'til 21:00 on Wednesday and Thursdays. . ." seeing the look on Gibbs' face, McGee quickly went on, "Right Boss, get to the point. Okay. So, with the hours they're closed that would give whomever needed it, plenty of time to dump the bags when the store was closed and make sure that no one was around to witness anything."

"Ya think, McGee?" Gibbs scowled at the agent and took a swig of his coffee. "What do you have on the security camera? Anything?"

"Working on it, Boss. I'm working on it right now," McGee replied, turning back to his computer.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Using a stick he'd found at the edge of the parking lot, DiNozzo poked around the trash in the dumpster. As he pushed at the trash, he noticed a box filled with bags of chips past their sell date. Next to the chips were a couple of boxes of women's blouses and what looked to be unopened packages of t-shirts. From where he stood, he couldn't tell what might be wrong with them.

DiNozzo wrinkled his nose and made a face as he turned toward Ziva, "The manager said that the employees have to dump their trash in the dumpster at the end of every shift. The bags with the victim's remains were found sitting next to the dumpster."

Pointing at the bag that was resting at Ziva's feet, he continued, "If the employees aren't leaving the bags outside of the dumpster then someone else must be. I have an idea."

Standing up from where she'd been inspecting an errant garbage bag, Ziva turned to DiNozzo, "That the employees are lying?"

Smiling, DiNozzo replied, "No, Agent David, there's some interesting stuff in this dumpster. I'm thinking that we should come back at night after the NEX is closed and see if any dumpster divers show up."

"Dumpster divers?"

"Yeah. Stores throw out stuff that's past a sell date like food and beverages; but, also stuff that is usually still good. There are people who like to root around in dumpsters and pick up stuff that's still useful. They're called dumpster divers."

Grimacing, Ziva replied, "It seems an odd thing to do. If it's in the dumpster then I don't think that I would want it."

Shrugging his shoulders, DiNozzo frowned, "Yeah, neither would I; but, there are a lot of people who like free stuff like clothing and stuff and some of it's still good. There's a whole subculture in major cities that dumpster dive behind restaurants and grocery stores for food."

Ziva made a face and brushed her hands against her knees to dust off the dirt. "I suppose we could come back tonight, park at the end of the lot and see if anyone turns up. They may have seen someone dropping off the bags with the victim in them."

Oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Entering the coffee shop, Gibbs spotted Tobias Fornell sitting at a table towards the back. Gibbs stopped at the counter to order a coffee and walked back to Tobias' table and sat down across from his friend.

Irritated, Fornell reminded Gibbs, "I told you I could come by your office."

"I needed a coffee and I need to pick up a Caff-Pow for Abby." Making a face and shrugging his shoulders, Gibbs exclaimed, "I don't know how she drinks that stuff! What's up?"

Taking a sip of his coffee, Fornell placed his cup on the table in front of him, "I tried to get Booth to hand the FBI side of the case over to me; but he refused. I may be liaison between your agency and mine, but in this case it doesn't matter. Apparently, Dr. Temperance Brennan only works with her partner. The FBI likes to keep her happy, so if she says Booth is involved in your case then there isn't anything I can do about it."

Curious, Gibbs responded, "You could have told me that over the phone."

Staring at Gibbs, Fornell moved his cup a little back and forth, "Booth tells me you and his father are cousins."

"His father passed away a year ago; but that's right." Gibbs replied. "So?"

"I just think it's kind of odd that you didn't mention that and that you don't want to work with him." Fornell looked inquisitively at Gibbs.

Smiling, Gibbs took a sip of his coffee, "I don't want to work with any FBI agents on this case. It's not FBI business."

Shrugging his shoulders, Fornell responded, "The minute you dragged Dr. Brennan into it, it became FBI business. Keep that in mind if you ever need her again. If you get her involved in any of your cases, Booth is along for the ride. That's the way it is and I'm guessing that's the way it's going to be."

Sighing, Gibbs stood up, "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."

Watching Gibbs leave, Fornell called out, "Booth has a hard ass reputation."

Walking towards the entrance, Gibbs looked back over his shoulder, smiled and replied, "So do I."

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

As he entered through the main doors of the Lab, Booth noticed Bones on the platform near one of the tables. He passed by Angela's office spotting a new painting just inside the doorway. He stopped to take it in, cocked his head to the side, shook his head and continued to the platform.

Booth slid his card through the card reader and took the steps two at a time. "Hey Bones, you aren't going to work all night are you? I thought we could go pick up Christine from Day Care and drive over to see if Pops wants to go out to dinner tonight."

Looking up from the bones she held in her hand, Brennan replied, "I think I'd like to work on this skull for awhile, Booth. I am having fairly good success and I might be able to finish it tonight allowing Angela to start on the facial reconstruction in the morning."

Shrugging his shoulders, Booth replied, "Well, if that's what you want to do. I tell you what, I'll go get Christine and she and I will go visit Pops for awhile . We'll stop by on the way home to pick you up."

Preoccupied with the bones in her hands, Brennan nodded her head as she fit together the two pieces of skull that she held, "That would be acceptable."

Smiling, Booth realized that she had already dismissed him from her mind. Leaning over he kissed her on the cheek and walked away.

Brennan, feeling the kiss on her cheek, smiled.

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_Thank you again for the favorites and follows. It's nice to know someone is interested in this little fic of ours. Reviews would be delightful. There's a button right there . . . . it's easy (and it's free)!_


	5. Chapter 5

_FaithInBones and I are collaborating on this little fic and, although we are working together, each of us tweaks our fiction in different ways. This chapter is an extreme example. If you read this chapter in the Bones fandom, at first you might think you were reading a completely different chapter. Let me just assure you, that the chapters are the same, we've just organized each a little differently for the fandoms._

_We own neither NCIS nor Bones. While we are sure you're shocked, each of us is just a tad disappointed!_

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Taking a big bite of the over-sized slice of pizza, DiNozzo glanced over at the profile of his partner. "Are you sure you don't want any? It's pretty good."

Frowning, Ziva replied, "No thank you. I do not like pizza with everything on it."

Nodding, DiNozzo reached behind him and pulled a second pizza box from the back seat. Passing it over to her, he asked, "Who said anything about pizza with everything on it?"

Puzzled, Ziva opened the lid to find a mushroom pizza. Surprised, she lifted a slice from the box, "Why didn't you tell me you had a mushroom pizza as well as that monstrosity that you are eating?"

Laughing, DiNozzo replied, "You didn't ask."

Shaking her head, Ziva bit off a small piece of pizza as she watched the dumpster. "Are you sure that people really dive into dumpsters? It seems made up to me."

Smiling, DiNozzo continued to chew his bite of pizza. Pointing to the two young men approaching the dumpster, he placed his half eaten slice back in the box, "Watch, you'll see."

Curious, Ziva and DiNozzo watched one of the young men grab the rim of the dumpster and pull himself over the edge. Shortly bags came flying out of the dumpster, landing next to the young man standing outside of the dumpster.

Opening the car door, DiNozzo smiled, "That, Agent David, is dumpster diving."

Shrugging her shoulders, Ziva placed her pizza box on the back seat and opened her door. Walking beside DiNozzo, she watched the young man outside the dumpster squat down and open one of the bags resting at his feet, apparently oblivious to the approach of the two agents.

Coming up behind the inquisitive young man, DiNozzo called out, "NCIS, you two are in deep kimchi."

Startled, the young man squatting near them jumped up, "Hey, man. We aren't doing anything wrong. This is all trash. We're just recycling."

Shaking her head, Ziva called out, "You in the dumpster, out of there right now."

Popping up and looking down at them, the second young man replied, "Oh, come on."

Pointing towards the ground at his feet, DiNozzo replied, "Get your ass out of there right now. We're not playing around."

Sighing, the second young man pulled himself over and out of the dumpster.

Pointing at each of them, "Ok, names." Ziva demanded.

Staring at each other, the larger of the two responded. "I'm Tommy Williams and this is my brother Terry. We aren't doing anything wrong. We're recycling. You should see the stuff they throw away in this dumpster. We clean up after ourselves when we're done! We throw all of the bags back inside. We try to be neat about what we do."

Shaking his head, DiNozzo responded, "Except the other day, eh? You two left two bags outside the dumpster and then called in a tip? That was you two."

Curious, Terry asked, "How do you know we called in the tip about the body? It could have been anyone." Tommy looked at his brother with a grimace and shook his head.

Laughing, DiNozzo replied, "We're NCIS, we have our ways."

Ziva shook her head as she looked between the two boys. "If we didn't know before, we know now."

Sheepishly nodding his head, Terry replied, "Well, " looking over at his brother with a look of defeat he continued. "Yeah, It was us."

"So? About the bags you left outside the dumpster?" DiNozzo repeated.

Shrugging his shoulder, Tommy replied, "We found it, but we didn't do it! We opened those bags and they looked like they were full of old meat so we put them off to the side while we went through other stuff in the dumpster. We were just going to throw them back inside, but when we grabbed them to throw them back, Terry saw the eyeball. We both freaked when we saw that. Truth is, I barely made it to the grass before I threw up. I mean, geeze, we'd never seen anything like that. Never."

Nodding his head, Terry continued, "Yeah. I mean it looked like a human eye ball. It was big like you see on TV, you know? We couldn't just throw those bags back into the dumpster. It might have been a person."

Staring at the indignant boys, Ziva asked, "Did you see anyone before you found the bags? Were there any vehicles in the parking lot?"

Shaking their heads, Tommy and Terry replied simultaneously, "No ma'am."

Looking at his brother, then back at the two agents, Tommy answered, "We were the only ones here. If we see anyone or if we see vehicles in the parking lot we skip that dumpster for the night. It's one of our rules."

Curious, Ziva asked, "Why do you climb into dumpsters to take things out of them? The things in the dumpsters are trash."

Shaking their heads, the brothers protested and Terry replied, "Have you seen what they throw away? You'd be shocked at what we find in dumpsters!"

Disgusted, Terry continued, "We find clothes in this one all the time. Clothes that are perfectly fine, some of them are still in packages! That's why we dive here. Whenever we find clothes we take them over to the homeless shelter on Mission Street. There are people that can use that stuff and the store's just throwing it away, it's not like they care. It's disgusting. We recycle. We help the needy and it doesn't hurt anyone. The store manager should be ashamed of himself."

Hopefully optimistic, Tommy asked, "Can we go now?"

Shrugging his shoulders, DiNozzo handed Terry his notebook, "Write down your names, your home address and your phone number and then you can go."

Grabbing the notebook, Terry wrote quickly. "We didn't do nothing wrong, man."

Muttering "double negative" under his breath, DiNozzo pointed towards the end of the parking lot, "Go home."

Terry handed the notebook back to DiNozzo, "Thanks, man." Gulping, he looked over at Ziva and nodded his head. "Ma'am."

Nodding his head, Tommy echoed his brother, "Yeah, thanks."

Shaking his head, DiNozzo watched Tommy and Terry run from the lot. "Kids are so weird these days. What happened to going to the movies or playing video games?"

Laughing, Ziva asked, "Feeling old Tony?"

Indignant, DiNozzo answered, "Hell no. I just don't understand kids, that's all. This younger generation! They act like pod people. I don't understand pod people."

Shaking her head, Ziva stared at DiNozzo, "And I don't understand you. What are pod people?"

Laughing, DiNozzo replied in disbelief, "Invasion of the Body Snatchers? Come on, it's a classic! 1956. Starring Kevin McCarthy and Dana Wynter?"

Sighing and shaking his head, DiNozzo muttered, "Why do I even bother?"

Smiling, Ziva replied, "I often wonder about that myself, Tony."

ooooooooooooo

Booth held Christine and watched as his grandfather set up the dominoes. "So," Hank's face softened as he watched his grandson and great granddaughter, "Are you going to tell me about your meeting with Jethro?"

Moving to the other side of the room Booth settled Christine into the middle of Hank's bed, then repositioned pillows from the headboard and placed them in a square around his daughter. Looking over at his grandfather, he shrugged his shoulders.

"I saw him at the Lab; but I didn't talk to him. I didn't have anything to say and he didn't seem to either." Satisfied that Christine was adequately protected, he kissed the top of her head, walked over to the sitting area and sat down in the chair across from his grandfather, moving the dominoes table between them.

Shaking his head, Hank stared at his grandson, "Shrimp, I've told you before that this feud is between me and Jackson. It has nothing to do with you or Jethro. Neither of you have any reason to be involved. If you are holding a grudge out of some kind of misplaced loyalty, there really is no reason. There's no need to snub Jethro on my account."

Sighing, Booth stared over at his sleeping daughter, "I have my reasons Pops and they have nothing to do with that thing between you and Jackson."

Reaching across the table and touching Booth's hand, Hank asked, "Tell me what you have against Jethro Gibbs, Seeley. I want to know."

Distracting himself with the dominoes bone yard, Booth shook his head and replied, "I'd rather not talk about it, Pops."

Tapping his index finger against the table, Hank insisted, "No secrets, Shrimp, I mean it. I am sick of family secrets. For years, you and Jared kept secret what your father was doing to you and it almost killed you and your mother. I told you then and I am telling you now, no more secrets between us. Now tell me why you don't like Jethro. I want to know."

Exhaling deeply, Booth leaned back in his chair, "Okay, Pops. You remember that Jethro looked up Dad when I was about eight? I think he was stationed somewhere in the Philadelphia area. He came over to the house a few times at night when Jared and I were already in bed; so I never met him."

Nodding his head, Hank replied, "Yes, I knew about Jethro looking up Joseph. I had asked Joseph to give Jethro a chance. I begged him to put the family feud aside and Joseph said he'd try. I never wanted my feud with Jackson to touch the rest of the family. That was just between my brother and me."

Crossing his arms across his chest and keeping his eyes focused on his sleeping daughter, Booth continued, "Well, while Jethro was coming around Dad sobered up and he stopped . . . he stopped hitting me and Mom and he wasn't so angry. It was kind of like a miracle. Dad wasn't drinking and Mom was so happy. God she was so damned happy." Booth's face clouded over.

Realizing that his grandfather was watching him, Booth sat up straighter in his chair. Looking at Hank's sad face, he continued, "That was probably the happiest six months of my childhood, Pops. We were almost like a normal family. . . Then one day, Dad came home drunk. Not just drunk, but angry drunk. He came charging into the house and started hitting Mom. When I tried to stop him, he started in on me. Then Mom tried to protect me and he started in on her again. Mom was so scared. We both were. She kept asking why. . . . All she wanted to know Pops was why."

Reliving that awful moment in time, Booth swallowed hard, "Do you know what Dad said? He said that Jethro was sick and tired of having losers for family. He said that Jethro had requested a transfer and he got it, that he couldn't stand to be around such losers. . We never heard from him again. Dad said that . . ." looking down at his hands, Booth let his voice trail off. He took a couple of deep breaths before continuing. "Dad said that Jethro called him and told him that we were all useless and he never wanted to see or hear from us again."

Booth's voice broke as he looked at his grandfather. "He was the only family we had besides you and he didn't want to have anything to do with us. It just drove Dad over the edge and he never came back."

Shaking his head, Hank responded, "Your father told you that Jethro requested a transfer to get away from his family?"

Nodding his head, Booth replied, "Yeah. Dad went back to drinking and he was worse than before Jethro showed up. He was worse, Pops. A hell of a lot worse. He was angrier and he was drunk more often."

Sitting forward, Hank sighed, "Seeley, you're a detective. You're a good detective from what Temperance tells me." He smiled affectionately at his grandson. "So, let me ask you a question. Would you trust the word of a drunken abuser about anything if that person was involved in one of your crimes? Would you consider the word of someone like that to be trustworthy?"

Frowning, Booth blinked and stared at this grandfather, "Uh . . . No. Not really."

"Then why are you taking the words your father told you as gospel? Seeley, you only have your father's word about why Jethro stopped coming around. Have you ever bothered to find out Jethro's side of the story?"

Embarrassed, Booth shook his head, "No, I haven't. I've never questioned it at all."

Reaching over and placing his hand on Booth's knee, Hank asked, "Isn't it about time you found out the truth? Besides me and Jared, Jethro and Jackson are the only family you have left in this world, well besides Temperance and Christine; but, you know what I mean. I'm old and so is Jackson. We're not going to be around much longer. I don't have anything to do with Jackson; but, that's my battle, not yours. If you're going to throw away the only family you have left, at least find out if you're doing it for the right reasons." Hank looked fondly at his oldest grandson, "Let's face it Shrimp, you're basing your anger and your hate on the words of a drunken angry man. Does that make sense to you?" Watching his grandson shake his head, Hank continued. "It isn't right, Seeley, and you know it."

Nodding his head, Booth reached down and patted Hank's hand, "Yeah, maybe you're right. I'll think about it, Pops."

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_FaithInBones and I are having great fun putting together this little fic for you. This is the first collaboration with another fan fic author for both of us, and we seem to be finding our way through. It's different from the way each of us normally writes, so we would really appreciate feedback on how we're doing with the characters, the story line, etc.. Please take a minute to click on the little button below to let us know your POV. Thanks for reading! _


	6. Chapter 6

_Frustrating as it is, we own neither Bones nor NCIS._

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Angela walked into her office to find a skull resting on a tray on her desk. Finishing her latte, she tossed the cup into the recycle bin and started on the facial reconstruction she knew Brennan wanted. Looking closely at the reassembled skull, she was once again astounded at the size of the pieces and Brennan's patience for taking a pile of small bits of bone and turning them into a skull or, at other times, a complete skeleton.

Preoccupied with the reconstruction, voices outside of her office made their way into her consciousness. Looking up, she smiled as her husband, Jack Hodgins, entered with a young woman dressed in Goth with her hair pulled into pigtails.

"Angela, this is Abby Sciuto. She's a forensic specialist at the Naval Criminal Investigative Service headquarters. She and Doctor Mallard have dropped by to give us the latest on what they've been able to figure out about our John Doe. I told Abby all about you." Jack's blue eyes twinkled as he made the introduction.

Angela stood up and extended her hand as the other woman moved toward her. "I hope not everything."

Returning Angela's smile, Abby pointed at the skull on the pedestal in front of the artist. "That is so cool. I have a program that I use; but, this looks like a really neat way to do a reconstruction. It has to be pretty time consuming though, isn't it? Did you do all of the reassembly?"

Shaking her head, Angela responded, "Dr. Brennan reassembled all of the pieces, I don't have the patience for something that tedious! I have a digital program that I can use. But that depends on what we have to work with. But, the accuracy of the program relies on the parameters entered. The result is about a 72 percent success rate. Doing it this way, I get a better feel for what the victim looked like. Once I've applied the clay and I feel I'm comfortable with the results, I enter the information into the digital program and we average about an 87 percent success rate."

Nodding, Abby replied, "Wow, a fifteen percent better success rate. I'll keep that in mind. We don't have the same equipment; but, it's always helpful to know where other resources might be available." Glancing around the office, she continued. "I love these paintings! Are they all your work?" Catching Angela's nod of affirmation, she went on. "You're definitely a very accomplished artist. Although as my friend Zed would say, I'm not sure about your technique; but then I'm probably not a good judge of that." Abby looked over at the artist to see if the artist was offended by the remark.

In response to the reference to Zed, Angela returned Abby's grin and chuckled. Looking over at the easel just inside of the doorway holding her latest painting, she replied, "Thanks."

Hodgins waited patiently for the women to finish talking and then cleared his throat, "Abby and I are going to go over the data she collected from the bags the victim was in as well as the bugs and particulates that they collected at the dumpster site. We were going to go to lunch first though. Do you want to go with us?"

Shaking her head, Angela replied, "No, that's ok. I'm going to have lunch with Michael today."

Nodding his head, Hodgins replied, "Ok, kiss him for me."

"I will."

Leaving the office, Abby commented, "Her paintings are very interesting."

Walking towards the main entrance, Hodgins noticed Wendell leaving Cam's office,  
"Hey man, this is Abby Sciuto from NCIS. We're going to lunch. Do you want to go with us?'

Wendell looked over the attractive young woman walking beside Hodgins and smiled, "Sure! Sounds good." Turning towards Abby, Wendell introduced himself, "Hi, I'm Wendell Bray. I'm an intern in the anthropology program here."

Abby reached out to shake Wendell's proffered hand. "Nice to meet you. Do you work for Dr. Brennan? I hear she can be tough." At his nod, she continued, "How do you like working for her?

Wendell grimaced and looked around to see if anyone was nearby. "You're right, she's tough. But, if you want to learn from the best then you can't do better than Dr. Brennan."

Abby nodded in response. "Yeah that's how I feel about working with Agent Gibbs. He's tough and committed; but he makes me want to try harder for results and I'm willing to go that extra mile for a boss like that." Forgetting Dr. Hodgins, now walking a few steps behind the two, Abby looked at the intern, "So Wendell, do you prefer working with skeletons from the ancient past or with the recently dead?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Wendell answered, "Both, I guess. We just had a really interesting case with Neanderthals and Homo Sapiens, if you're interested I can take you over to see it sometime. I like helping to solve those kinds of ancient riddles; but, I really think it's cool to help get justice for victims of crime. I hate it when someone thinks it's okay to just take a life like its nothing."

Nodding, Abby replied, "I agree. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than seeing someone arrested for a crime they committed. I hate it when they think they've gotten away with murder. I like to see that smug look disappear from their face." Wendell grinned at her enthusiasm as she continued, "Colin mentioned the exhibit that y'all just opened; but, I haven't been able to convince him to give me a tour yet. I'd love it if you would be willing to show me."

Startled at her comment, Wendell raised his eyebrows as he returned her look, "Colin? Fisher? You know Fisher?"

Abby nodded, "Yeah. I know him from some of the clubs. I know that he works at the Jeffersonian; but, mostly I just know him as a comedian in the clubs."

Puzzled, Wendell shook his head. "Fisher. Okay. I'd be glad to show you the exhibit, Abby. Let's talk about it over lunch and we can set up a time."

_oooooo_

Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard was sitting in Brennan's office reading the reports that Brennan had complied about their John Doe. In turn, Brennan was looking over the information that Ducky had brought about the soft tissue belonging to the victim found in the bags.

"This is very thorough, Dr. Brennan. I see that you were able to reconstruct the skull and that Ms. Montenegro is working on the facial reconstruction. That's very good. The pieces were so small, I find it astonishing that you were able to finish it so soon. When do you plan to work on the rest of the skeleton?"

Looking up from the report she was reading, Brennan replied, "Ms. Wick, one of my interns, has started some of the preliminary work on what we were able to retrieve of the skeleton. I plan to start on the reconstruction this afternoon. If you're interested in seeing what we have, I can take you over."

Before Ducky could answer, Booth entered the office, "Hey, Bones, do you and Dr. Mallard feel like taking a break and going to lunch with me?"

Looking towards her partner in the office doorway, Brennan smiled. Turning back to Ducky, she asked, "Would you care to join us for lunch, Dr. Mallard?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Ducky replied, "I wouldn't want to interfere with your lunch plans. I can go get a sandwich and meet you back here in an hour."

Walking further into the office, Booth responded, "Nonsense, Doc. We're just going to the Royal Diner. It's nothing fancy; but, they serve a great hamburger and fries."

Smiling, Ducky replied, "Well, in that case, I'd be more than happy to join you. I haven't had a descent hamburger in quite a while."

_oooooo_

Sitting in the Diner, Booth watched as Brennan stole a fry from his plate. Shaking his head, he turned his attention to Ducky, "So, Dr. Mallard, how do you like the burger?"

Placing the burger back on his plate, Ducky shook his head, "Excellent. Excellent. And, please, Agent Booth, call me Ducky. Dr. Mallard is too formal."

Nodding his head, Booth smiled, "You can call me Booth. Almost everyone does."

"I'll have to keep this place in mind the next time I want a properly made hamburger. The fries are excellent, too." Ducky smiled at the Agent sitting across from him, and nodded toward Dr. Brennan as she stole another fry from Booth's plate.

Booth, watching as another fry left his plate, reached over and took a strawberry off of Brennan's fruit plate. Taking a bite from it, Booth waved the half eaten piece of fruit in front of Brennan. Ignoring Booth, she grabbed the pickle spear sitting on the side of his plate. Startled, Booth reached out and grabbed her hand, "Nah ah," He laughed, "Not my pickle."

Shaking her head, she dropped the pickle onto the table. Booth, laughed, picked it up and bit off a piece. Ducky, amused at the antics of his lunch companions, smiled, "I really appreciate the opportunity to work with you Dr. Brennan. The Jeffersonian is one of my favorite places in Washington D.C. There are so many wonderful exhibits. "Brennan nodded in agreement. "One of my favorite exhibits," he continued, "is the Lincoln exhibit. Have you explored it at all? I think what I've found most interesting is that they have the medical equipment that was used by Army Surgeons Joseph Woodward and Edward Curtis at the post mortem of Abraham Lincoln. Did you know that the post mortem was performed in a guest bedroom at the White House? They also have the projectile that John Wilkes Booth fired that killed Lincoln. It's fascinating. And they have the bits of skull of …"

Seeing the shocked look on Booth's face, Ducky stopped speaking. Booth, a little pale, looked down at his plate and fidgeted with the rest of his pickle spear.

Not understanding what was going on, Ducky asked, "I'm sorry. Have I said something wrong?"

Shaking his head, Booth looked up at the lunch companion's concerned face and replied, "No. You didn't say anything wrong. I . . . uh . . . You know, I just remembered that I have an appointment I need to keep." Standing up, Booth smiled, "It was nice seeing you again, Ducky. Bones, I'll see you this evening."

Watching Booth leave the Diner, Ducky turned to Brennan, "I'm certain I said something wrong."

Shaking her head, Brennan replied, "No, you didn't say anything wrong. Booth is a very busy man."

Uncertain, Ducky nodded his head.

_oooooo_

Later that afternoon, Ducky was sitting at the corner of Gibbs desk telling him about his visit to the Jeffersonian. "Dr. Brennan is quite brilliant. She's already reassembled the skull and has started on the skeleton."

Not looking up, Gibbs continued to key in a report on his PC.

"I went to lunch with Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan," Ducky continued."The most peculiar thing occurred. I was telling them about my favorite exhibit at the Jeffersonian and Agent Booth suddenly became quite pale and then told me he had a meeting and left. He seemed quite upset; but, Dr. Brennan tried to tell me that he's just busy. The whole thing was quite puzzling."

Looking up, Gibbs asked, "You didn't tell them about the Lincoln exhibit did you?"

Puzzled, Ducky replied, "Yes, why? Is that a problem?"

Exhaling a deep breath, Gibbs responded, "Yeah, it can be for some people, especially if they're distantly related to John Wilkes Booth."

Surprised, Ducky exclaimed, "Oh my. I didn't realize. Oh." Looking quizzically at Gibbs, he asked, "Doesn't that mean that if Agent Booth is distantly related to John Wilkes Booth then you must be also? Why haven't you told me about this before?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Gibbs replied, "I didn't think it was necessary. Between me and my Dad there are enough nuts on the family tree, I'm not exactly thrilled to let people know that there's a presidential assassin there, too. I'm sure Seeley Booth feels the same way."

Shaking his head, Ducky replied, "Oh my. I didn't mean to upset the poor man. I will have to apologize to him the next time I see him."

Shaking his head, Gibbs responded, "I wouldn't. It'll just embarrass him. I'd suggest you just leave it alone."

Sighing, Ducky replied, "You're family history is very complicated."

Laughing sadly and shaking his head, Gibbs replied, "No kidding."

.

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_NCIS fans may recognize the source of Ducky's faux pas with Agent Seeley Joseph Booth. In "Heart Break" (S. 2, Ep. 8) Ducky takes a Cmdr. Janice Byers to the basement of the Smithsonian to see his favorite exhibit, the tools used for Abraham Lincoln's postmortem._

_For anyone with a historical interest, an accounting of the autopsy can be found here: www . nlm . gov / visible proofs / galleries / cases / Lincoln . Html (remember to remove the spaces)_

_For Bones fans, Abby and Angela apparently have both made the acquaintance of a local graffiti artist "Zed". Angela met him in "The But in the Joke" (S. 8, Ep. 8) where Fisher's comedic talents were also discussed. The reference to the Neanderthal Homo Sapiens exhibit is from this week's episode "The Archaeologist in the Cocoon" (S. 8 Ep. 11)_

_Please click the button below and let us know if you are enjoying this little fic. We are getting hits, but it's always nice to hear from our readers about the content of the story, if we're keeping characters true to the show(s), etc. Just enter your comments and then click on the little button. Easy Peasy._

_.  
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	7. Chapter 7

_FaithInBones and I appreciate all the wonderful reviews, favorites, and follows we've been receiving for this story. Thank you so much for reading!_

_We still don't own Bones or NCIS, darn it._

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Fascinated with the ability Temperance had to reconstruct a skeleton from such small pieces, Ducky had made arrangements to be at the Jeffersonian for at least a part of the time to observe her as she worked her mad skills on the very small skeleton pieces.

Watching as she studied the pieces layed out on the stainless steel table in front of her, he commented, "I think it's really amazing that you've already managed to reconstruct twenty percent of the skeleton in such a short time. If I had to do it, it would probably take me a week just to get this far and I never would have been able to reassemble the skull with such accuracy."

Moving one of the larger pieces in her hand slowly over the other bones resting on the table, Brennan kept her eye open for a possible match. "I find it helps if I start with the bigger pieces first. The more of the skeleton I can piece together before I have to deal with the smaller pieces the better."

Ducky bit back a smile as he watched the female intern, standing next to Brennan mimic her mentor. He tried to remember the intern's name, Fern? Rose? No. Oh well, it would come to him. He shook his head as he watched the determined look on the intern's face as she moved a piece of bone over the table. He could almost hear her hoping against hope to find a match.

He almost laughed out loud at the look of chagrin that went across the intern's face when Temperance thoughtfully picked up a piece of bone from the table and matched it to the piece in her hand then glued the pieces together. He heard the intern, "what IS her name?" audibly sigh as Temperance repositioned the glued piece in her hand and began to repeat the process of searching for a matching piece to the now bigger piece she held.

Glancing at Brennan's studious face, Ducky cleared his throat. "I may have committed a serious faux pas yesterday when I had lunch with you and Booth."

Seeing her raised eyebrows, but noting her concentration on the items before her, Ducky continued, "I mentioned John Wilkes Booth and apparently I shouldn't have. I had no idea that Booth was related to the assassin of Abraham Lincoln. Special Agent Gibbs informed me of the family connection. If I had known that there was a familial connection to Booth and Gibbs I would never have mentioned it."

Daisy inhaled sharply and gave Ducky a look mixed with incredulity and fear.

Irritated, Brennan looked sharply at the intern, "Ms. Wick, I believe Doctor Mallard was talking to me."

"Ah yes!" Ducky thought. "That's it. Daisy Wick."

Blushing, Daisy lowered her eyes back to the table and tried to listen to the mesmerizing conversation without actually appearing to.

Turning her gaze to Ducky, Brennan remarked, "It is something that Booth doesn't like to talk about. He has told me in the past that he considers it a stain on his family's honor. He takes honor and fidelity very seriously."

Nodding his head, Ducky asked, "Do you think I should apologize to him for bringing it up? I realize that I embarrassed him and I didn't mean to do that."

Daisy, sneaking a look at Ducky, shook her head slightly and then lowered her gaze back to the task on the table in front of her.

Shaking her head, Brennan looked back down at the bone pieces, "No, I think it would probably be best if you didn't say anything further about it."

Nodding his head, Ducky picked up two pieces of bone he had been studying and showed them to Temperance, "I believe these match."

ooooo

Angela had finished with the facial reconstruction and had entered the rendering into the missing persons database. She gave a satisfied sigh when the computer alerted her that there was a possible match in the database. There was a ninety five percent probability that the victim had been Peter Matthew Van Pelt, aged twenty-four from Chesapeake, Virginia. His mother had reported him missing to the Chesapeake Police Department the previous day. Angela had the brief thought that it seemed odd that his mother had waited five days to report him missing.

Shrugging her shoulders, Cam studied the picture of Peter Van Pelt, "I'm sure Booth will want to know why it took her so long to tell anyone that he was missing."

Staring at the picture of the young man, Angela sighed, "I guess I really find it peculiar he lived with her and he didn't have a job. I could understand it if he lived on his own; but, he lived with her. He filed a Federal and State tax return every year; he claimed no income and yet he owned a car and had a driver's license. He doesn't have a criminal record and he's never even had a parking ticket. How does someone like that get a car and the money for gas, insurance and upkeep?"

Pursing her lips, Cam replied, "Perhaps his mother bought it for him."

Sighing, Angela slowly shook her head, "I'm telling you, if I had a twenty-four year old son living off of me like that I might be tempted to kill him myself."

ooooo

Until Booth found the time to talk to Gibbs privately about their family issues, he decided that he would treat Gibbs like any other Federal employee he had to deal with.

"Gibbs."

Hearing Gibbs brusque greeting, Booth inhaled, "Yeah, this is Seeley Booth. Angela got a hit on our victim. She's going to be sending you the particulars within the next thirty minutes. His name is Peter Matthew Van Pelt, aged twenty-four. He's a civilian living in Chesapeake, Virginia. His mother, Tricia Van Pelt reported him missing yesterday morning. I plan to go over to her house in about an hour to interview her and I thought I'd check and see if you wanted to go with me."

Surprised at the civil tone coming from the Agent, Gibbs replied, "Yeah, send me the address and I'll meet you there."

"I thought we could drive down together." Booth replied.

Puzzled at Booth's turn around in attitude, Gibbs gave a slight smile as he cautiously replied, "Alright. You want to come by and pick me up or do you want me to drive over to the Hoover?"

Smiling, Booth replied, "I'll come and get you."

Curious, Ziva watched Gibbs end his call, "Was that Agent Booth?"

Nodding his head, Gibbs replied, "Yeah, the artist was able to get a hit in the missing persons database. We have an ID. We're going to go see the victim's mother in Chesapeake."

Leaning forward, Ziva asked, "Would you like for me to come with you?"

Shaking his head, Gibbs stood up, placed his phone in his jacket pocket and picked up his coffee cup, "Nope. The Jeffersonian is going to be sending over the particulars on the victim in the next half hour. I want you to run a complete background check and then call me and let me know what you find."

Turning to McGee, Gibbs continued, "I want to know if our victim, Peter Matthew Van Pelt, a resident of Chesapeake, Virginia had any connection to the Navy. I want to know how a civilian ended up at Naval Station Norfolk behind the NEX."

Nodding his head, McGee answered, "Got it Boss. As soon as I find anything I'll call you. Tony is downstairs with Abby going over what she found in the garbage bags the victim was in."

Nodding his head, Gibbs walked over to the elevator and waited for the elevator door to open.

* * *

_Please take a minute to drop us a note about this story. We are having fun writing it, but would really like to hear from you._

_If you are enjoying this story in the Bones and NCIS fandoms, you might also enjoy Dyna63's in the crossovers, "Not Today. May Not Tomorrow"._


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you for reading our story . . . . we appreciate the hits on our story.  
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_Neither FaithInBones nor I own either NCIS or Bones. But we're guessing you might have already known that!  
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* * *

Arriving at the NCIS building, Booth was going to drive into the parking lot until he spied Gibbs standing outside of the building's main entrance. Licking his bottom lip, Booth pulled up to the curb.

Recognizing Booth as he pulled up, Gibbs opened the door and slid in. "Thanks for picking me up."

Nodding his head, Booth checked to make sure traffic was clear and pulled out onto the street. "Yeah, no problem." Taking the entrance ramp to the freeway, Booth picked up a folder from the center console and handed it to Gibbs. "Bones and her squints did a pretty good job on the skull. Once they had the face they were able to find our victim in the Missing Persons database fairly quickly."

Taking the folder and opening it, Gibbs noted the name Perry Matthew Van Pelt on the tab, inside he found a fact sheet for their victim. Glancing over the information, he noticed that Perry's mother and sister worked at the NEX at Naval Station Norfolk and that the father had been a Boatswain's Mate in the Navy. Doing the math in his head, he figured out that Perry was about nine years old when his father was killed in a ship board accident.

Looking up from the report, Gibbs studied Booth's neutral face, "So our victim has a connection to the Navy though his parents and his sister."

Nodding his head, Booth responded, "Yeah, but Perry's mother waited five days to inform Chesapeake PD that her son was missing. That doesn't sit well with me. You have any thoughts?"

Gibbs returned his gaze to the fact sheet and contemplated the change in the younger man. Booth's lack of animosity surprised him and made him curious. Pulling his attention back to the fact sheet in front of him, Gibbs leaned back in his seat and watched the road ahead. "Yeah? That is interesting and more than a little intriguing."

Gibbs looked out of the window at the changing landscape, "I remember when all of this was just open farm land nearly all the way to Norfolk. Hard to believe all of this retail has been built up around here, eh?"

Booth glanced over at this passenger and then back at the road. He gave a low chuckle as he responded, "I don't know that I mind the retail as much as the increase in traffic."

Gibbs reached down and released the back of the passenger seat slightly. He leaned back in the seat and smiled over at Booth, "And that's why I'm letting you drive."

ooooo

For the next few miles toward Chesapeake the two men were quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Booth watched the road roll by and so did Gibbs. About an hour from their destination, Booth cleared his throat and glanced at the other man. "I uhm . . . . I had an interesting conversation with my grandfather about . . . well about you and my Dad."

Curious, Gibbs turned his gaze toward Booth. "Yeah?"

Nodding his head, Booth flicked his eyes to Gibbs and back to the road. Gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, Booth continued, "Yeah, he pointed out that my old man wasn't exactly the most honest man walking this earth and that something Dad told me when I was a kid might have been a lie or at least a misunderstanding."

Not sure where the conversation was headed, Gibbs kept his eyes trained on Booth.

Sighing, Booth shrugged his shoulders, "Ok, I have a question for you."

Rubbing the end of his nose, Gibbs responded, "Go ahead."

Realizing that his hands were going numb, Booth relaxed his grip on the steering wheel, "Why did you transfer from Philadelphia in 1978?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Gibbs replied, "Transfer? I received orders. I was sent to South Korea. You probably don't remember, but there were two American Soldiers killed by the North Koreans in 1976 when they chopped down a tree in the demilitarized zone. The United States rotated more Marines into the area for awhile to make sure that the situation didn't escalate and that the North Koreans weren't going to use that incident to juice up another war. They needed my specialty."

Puzzled, Booth asked, "You didn't ask for the transfer?"

Shaking his head, Gibbs observed Booth carefully, "No I didn't ask for a transfer. I had orders."

Sighing, Booth nodded his head. "Okay. Thanks."

Watching Booth relax, Gibbs realized that he may have given his cousin the answer that the man needed to hear. Deciding to give him some time to come to grips with whatever dilemma that had been bothering him, Gibbs picked up the folder and reread the fact sheet.

After a few more miles of silence, Booth cleared his throat. "So, why did you look us up, my Dad I mean, when you were in Philadelphia?"

Gibbs glanced over at the younger man, "Have you met my Dad, Booth?" At Booth's negative shake of his head, Gibbs continued, "He was not an easy man to live with, but then your father wasn't either, was he?"

"No," Booth replied with a scowl.

"Yeah, well," Gibbs continued, "We each have our demons and we all deal with them in our own way. Unfortunately sometimes the way we deal with them affects the people around us and they take the brunt of our actions. I don't know all of my Dad's story, but I know that he's an old man and he has some regrets. Growing up, I didn't have the benefit of perspective that age and experience provides. I knew about Hank and the feud between the two of them, but I never really knew exactly what happened until years later. Just that Dad had a brother and I had a cousin but we didn't talk to them. Stillwater was far enough from Philly that it seemed like a world away. When I got orders to Philadelphia, I knew that I had family in the area and it just seemed like I should make an effort, you know?" He glanced over at Booth.

Booth grimaced, "I remember Dad mentioning your call and that you were going to come over to the house. I listened in one night when he and Mom were talking. At first he seemed a little distrustful but he seemed to come around.

"We didn't really have any family on my Dad's side of the family except for Pops. Dad kept us away from our mother's side of the family. Jared and I didn't really meet any of Mom's family until we moved in with Pops and Gran. Pops wanted to make sure that we kept in contact with as much of our family as possible when they took over raising us. . . . It's funny, but, I was an adult before I realized that Dad was homophobic and that's why he kept us away from knowing my Mom's sister. Anyway, I remember Dad being so excited when you contacted him and said you wanted to meet him. I think he was lonely and all he had was Mom, Jared, and I. His drinking had gotten so bad by then we'd stop visiting Pops and Gran. I guess Dad didn't want Pops to know how bad everything had gotten. He'd call Pops; but we didn't go see them anymore."

Clearing his throat, Booth glanced at Gibbs and then back at the road, "I knew you'd come to the house once in a while, but we were always sent to bed before you came over. You know he got better for awhile when you were around. He stopped drinking for awhile and Mom and I weren't afraid of him. It wasn't peaceful though. It wasn't the first time he'd been sober and I guess we both kind of walked around on eggshells and waited for the other shoe to drop."

Gibbs cleared his throat and looked at the man in the driver's seat. "They first night we met was a little awkward but we seemed to get comfortable with each other fairly quickly. I'd had a couple of overseas assignments but I didn't go to Nam like your Dad. We talked about our fathers, I remember that. Joseph and I had heard different versions of the story from our fathers and we compared notes. I'm still not sure either of us knew the truth about what really happened. I'm not sure Dad or Uncle Hank are sure of all the facts either." Gibbs grimaced and Booth nodded in agreement.

Frowning, Gibbs continued, "Joseph and I did agree that there had been enough water under the bridge and life was just too short for the two of us to carry on their crazy grudge. We got together a few times at the house and over at the VFW where your Dad belonged."

Booth nodded, "Yeah, I remember that he'd go over to the VFW post. I remember some of the Memorial Day picnics the post would sponsor. We'd go and place flags on the graves over at Westminster Cemetery in Bala Cynwyd the day before and then go to the services on Memorial Day. We'd take a picnic lunch and Pops and Gran would come with us. It was really nice when Dad was sober but once he started drinking, we never knew who would show up."

Gibbs looked at the anguish on Booth's face. "I understand. One night I was over at the house and we'd had a couple of beers. Your mother, Milly was a beautiful woman," Gibbs smiled at the memory. "Anyway, Milly brought out a snack for us and I don't know what set him off but all of a sudden your father just went off. He smacked the dish out of her hand and it crashed on the ground. As soon as it hit the floor he started berating her. I remember she cowered away from him and backed her way back into the house. I was embarrassed and furious. I could tell that it wasn't the first time he'd done that. There a lot of things that I will tolerate but a man treating a woman, any woman let alone his wife and the mother of his children, that way. No way. It's not acceptable. It was just so unconscionable. I decked him."

Booth felt his breath catch in his throat and looked sideways at Gibbs, "You decked him? My dad?"

Gibbs grinned, "Yeah, then I had a talk with him. He was drunk that night and I realized a few minutes into it that he wasn't going to remember any of it; so, I made sure Milly was okay and told her that I'd be back the next night. I had a buddy back at the base that I knew was going to A.A. meetings."

Booth grimaced, "Yeah, I know about the twelve step recovery program. It's not a spectator sport. The whole family gets to play that game."

Gibbs gave a snort, "I hadn't looked at it like that but I guess you're right. Anyway, when I got back to the base that night I talked with my buddy CJ about Joseph. CJ said that the alcoholic had to be the one to reach out. He told me that AA isn't for people who need it, that it's for people who want it. It's a program of attraction not promotion. CJ gave me permission to give Joseph his contact information and they hooked up. I don't know if you knew that your Dad had tried A.A."

Booth shook his head, "No, I didn't. I guess that explains a bit about why he was sober for awhile around that time. . . . It wasn't the only time he sobered up, I thought that he was sober because he was meeting with you. I guess he was going to meetings then?"

Gibbs nodded, "CJ wouldn't tell me much. He did say that he had to respect your Dad's anonymity but he did tell me that your Dad seemed to enjoy the meetings and was getting to know some of the guys. That's when I got my orders for South Korea."

Booth looked over at his cousin, "I don't know if it was you getting orders or what happened; but I know when you were transferred to South Korea, Dad told Mom that you'd requested the transfer. He said that you'd told him that you were tired of us and that we were bunch of losers. I hate to say it and you have to remember I was only eight not quite nine and I believed him. Mom and I believed him. I didn't have a reason not to. I'm sorry. Maybe if I'd thought about it, really thought about it, I would have realized that he was probably lying. As far as I knew you were just another version of my father. After you left the abuse got worse again. He started going back to the VFW post; but we didn't go to any of the activities anymore. He'd just disappear and drink and come home and scream at us or worse."

Gibbs nodded in acknowledgment, "I didn't go to Vietnam. I know that your Dad struggled with some of what he saw over there, Booth. If Joseph had been able to stay with A.A he might have had a chance. Most of the guys at the VFW post where your Dad went were World War II and Korean Conflict vets. They'd seen the horrors of war; but Vietnam was different. World War II vets were supported at home. The Korean War, well those guys were mostly ignored; but the Vietnam vets had it different. They didn't have a lot of support and that war was unpopular at home. It just added to the PTSD that a lot of them suffered from when they got back."

Booth stared at the road ahead of him and thought about his Dad and about the information that his cousin had given him. He hadn't known that his Dad had tried A.A. and he knew from personal experience with Gamblers Anonymous how challenging it could be to deal with an addiction. He scowled as he looked out of the windshield. Taking a deep breath, he glanced at Gibbs, "He died last year, you know?"

Gibbs glanced at the man sitting next to him, "I heard, I'm sorry. I wish things could have been different for him, for you and your Mom, for your brother. I wish that I could have helped."

Booth frowned, "Thanks. I appreciate it. I appreciate the talk and the information. I need to think about it. I appreciate you letting me know what happened. It does help, thanks."

Gibbs held up his hand and fished his ringing cell phone out of his pocket. Glancing at the caller ID, Gibbs pushed the button for the speakerphone and answered, "Gibbs. Go ahead McGee. I've got you on speakerphone so that Agent Booth can hear whatever you have to say."

McGee, responded, "Hey Boss. I have some information for you on our vic, Perry Matthew Van Pelt."

Glancing over at Booth, Gibbs replied, "We're listening, McGee, go ahead."

Staring at his monitor, McGee continued, "Perry Matthew Van Pelt, born in 1988 in Naval Station Mayport, Jacksonville, Florida. His father was Terry Hampton Van Pelt a Boatswain Mate in the United States Navy. Father, Terry was killed in a shipboard accident in 1997. His mother is Tricia Van Pelt. She's never remarried. He has a sister named Mary Van . . ."

Interrupting McGee, Gibbs glanced at the folder in his hands, "According to the FBI, Perry was living with his mother in Chesapeake and Perry was unemployed. Did you find anything about any criminal record?"

Shaking his head, McGee replied, "No adult criminal record of any kind, Boss. He did have a juvenile record; but, as far as I can find out it really wasn't much of anything. He stole a car when he was 15 years old and totaled it about twenty minutes later. He spent a year in a Youth Detention Center; but it looks like he may have learned his lesson There's nothing after that."

Shrugging his shoulders, Gibbs grunted, "Or hasn't been caught doing anything illegal since then."

Listening, Booth glanced over and nodded, "Yeah. There is that."

On the other end of the line, McGee replied, "Yeah, that's true."

Flipping his phone closed, Gibbs looked over at Booth. "Well, that's a little more than we had before."

"Yeah," Booth replied. "We'll see if we can do anything with it. I think the mother's house is just down the road from here.

* * *

_Being a reader AND a writer of fan fiction, there are things that when I write them I can't remember if they're canon or if they're from the fanfic universe (fanon, as it were ;-D) . . . when Booth and Gibbs are talking in the SUV and Booth mentions placing flags on the graves at Westminster Cemetery in Bala Cynwyd - that reference is from a story I wrote in the Bones fandom called "Last Monday in May."  
_

_I am not one of those authors that threatens to not post until I get a certain number of reviews (one of my pet peeves ;-D), but those writers DO seem to get reviews. We'll be back next Friday with Chapter 9 whether or not we got reviews, but it really does help when we get some feedback . . . any feedback. (Yes, I'm begging). Thanks!_


	9. Chapter 9

_Thank you so much for all of the wonderful reviews (in both fandoms). It's nice to know that someone is reading the story!_

_Just a reminder that while FaithInBones and I collaborate on the story, before publishing, each of us reads through the story again and may tweak it a little from the others version. Nothing relating to story line, just some editing points. Whether you read in the NCIS fandom or the Bones fandom, the basics will be the same. If you are a writer and have not collaborated with another fan fic writer, I would encourage you to give it a try. It's great fun - and helps to sharpen each others skill set. (If you're interested in how we do it, PM either of us and we'd be happy to share our experience).  
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_Neither of us own Bones or NCIS, sad but true._

* * *

ooooo

Arriving at the address they'd been given, Booth pulled the SUV into the driveway behind a green Ford Fiesta. Exiting the vehicle,he looked over the house and yard. It was hard to miss that the front lawn needed mowing and the bushes needed to be trimmed. Gibbs, standing next to the passenger's side door, waited for Booth to come around to his side of the truck.

Motioning toward the house with his head, Gibbs suggested, "You take the lead."

Surprised, Booth nodded and walked toward the front of the house. Knocking,he stepped back and glanced around the neighborhood. Hearing the door open, Booth returned his gaze to the entrance.

A boy of about eight stood in the shadows of the doorway, "We don't want any."

Smiling, Booth held up his badge and responded, "Hi, I was wondering if we could talk to Tricia Van Pelt or Mary Van Pelt."

Suspicious, the boy asked, "Are you really a policeman?"

Nodding his head, Booth stepped closer to allow the young boy to see more details of his badge.

Nodding his head, the lad pointed at Gibbs and stared at Booth, "Is he a policeman, too?"

Smiling, Gibbs held up his badge for the young man's inspection.

Nodding his head, the boy cautiously offered, "My Mom is here; but, my grandma is at work."

Placing his badge back on his belt, Booth responded "May we speak to your mother?"

Stepping back, the child waited for Booth and Gibbs to enter the house. "My name is Ryan what's yours?"

Concerned about the black eye on Ryan's face, Booth replied, "My name is Seeley and this is my friend Jethro . . . . Ryan how did you hurt your eye?"

Placing his hand under his right eye, Ryan looked down at the floor and started toanswer, "My uncle . . . "

Mary Van Pelt walked into the room and interrupted her son, "Ryan, your lunch is in the kitchen."

Scrunching his shoulders, Ryan stared at his mother and then at Booth and Gibbs. "Mom, these guys are policeman. They wanted to . . ."

Interrupting her son again, Mary pointed to the kitchen, "Lunch, Ryan."

Shrugging his shoulders, Ryan turned toward the other room then looked back and waved at the two Agents, "Nice to meet you."

Booth and Gibbs watched the young man limp away from them. Turning to Mary, Booth held up his badge again, "Mary Van Pelt?"

Nodding her head, Mary replied, "Yeah, what can I do for the FBI?"

Holding up his badge, Gibbs asked, "What happened to Ryan?"

Suddenly showing fear, Mary crossed her arms across her chest and asked, "Why are the FBI and NCIS bothering me? What's going on?"

Booth, noticing the bruised wrists on the young woman, glanced at the kitchen doorway and asked, "Would you mind answering Agent Gibbs question? What happened to Ryan and while you're at it, what happened to you?"

Dropping her arms to her side and tugged the sleeves down over her wrists, she glanced at the floor and then back at Booth, "Ryan ran into a door."

Staring at Mary, Booth pointed to her wrists, "And you?"

Staring defiantly at Booth, she replied, "If you must know, my boyfriend and I got carried away the other day."

Shaking his head, Gibbs asked, "Is your Mother home?"

Shaking her head at the question, she replied, "Mom's at work. She works at the NEX at Naval Station Norfolk. She'll be home at five. I work there from 3 pm until closing."

Curious, Booth asked, "Who watches Ryan while you and your mother are at work."

Irritation showing in her voice, the young woman replied curtly, "When school is in, his teachers do. When school is out for the summer and after school a friend watches him until Mom comes home. Look, I want to know what you want. If you won't tell me then I'm going to ask you to leave."

Schooling his face into a blank mask, Booth responded, "Your brother Perry was found dead on Tuesday."

Placing her hands over her mouth, Mary stared wide eyed at Booth and then Gibbs, "I didn't do . . . uh . . . Perry is dead? . . . Where did you find him? . . . Was he killed in a car wreck? He's always driving too fast."

Making a mental note of the slip, Booth replied, "His body was found by the dumpster behind the NEX. The NEX where you and your mother work."

Clinching her hands into fists, Mary held them against her mouth, "I need to call my mother. We've been worried about him for days."

Watching her closely, Gibbs asked, "Why did she wait to report him missing? He'd been dead for a week when his body was found."

Removing her hands from her mouth, Mary moved them to her side, "We thought he was staying with some friends. He gets tired of Mom and me sometimes and stays with friends. He was gone longer than usual this time and Mom called his friends and found out no one knew where he was so she called the police to report him missing. We didn't know he was missing before that. We would have called sooner if we'd known he was missing."

Pausing, Mary crossed her arms again, "Why are the FBI and NCIS interested in Perry? I mean he was killed in a car wreck right?"

Shaking his head, Booth replied, "No, it would appear that he was murdered."

Taking a step back, the woman hugged her arms around her body, "Murdered? Your sure it's Perry? Murdered?"

Nodding his head, Booth replied, "Yes, we're sorry for your loss."

ooooo

Walking back to the truck, Booth replied, "Care to take a trip to Naval Station Norfolk?"

Nodding his head, Gibbs opened the passenger door and entered the truck, "Yeah, I think we'd better."

Entering the truck, Booth looked back at the house and at the young woman watching from the doorway, "Someone has been beating the hell out of that woman and her son."

Glancing at the woman following their exit from the driveway, Gibbs responded, "Yeah, I got that."

Backing the truck into the street, Booth regarded the house and the young mother standing stock still in the doorway. "I don't like it."

Giving Booth a sideways glance, Gibbs replied, "Yeah, neither do I. Maybe Tricia Van Pelt will give us more information about what's going on."

Snorting, Booth replied, "Unless she's the cause of the abuse."

Shaking his head, Gibbs responded, "Ryan started to say something about this uncle."

Casting a brief look at his cousin, Booth moved his eyes back at the road, "Yeah, I caught that too. Maybe the uncle has been using them as punching bags or maybe he tried to protect them from their mother. I'll reserve judgment until we talk to her."

Staring straight ahead, Gibbs frowned, "God I hate domestic abuse cases."

Booth nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Me, too."

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	10. Chapter 10

_First, this story is a collaboration between FaithInBones and Penandra. We were intrigued by the characters played by actor Ralph Waite in the two series - Jackson Gibbs in NCIS and Hank Booth in Bones. In an exchange of PMs we got into a discussion about whether or not the two agents could be related. Then, of course whether Jackson and Hank were related . . . . then (as is the wont of fan fiction authors) we decided to explore the possibilities. Thank you for joining us on the journey. We are glad that you are along for the ride!_

_We appreciate all of the hits on this story, especially here in the NCIS fandom where we know that we are unknown authors. Thank you to those of you who are reading our little fic . . . . thank you especially to those readers who have been willing to leave a review. If you are an author, you know that means a lot. When FaithInBones and I first had this idea, neither of us had ever collaborated with another author for fanfiction. It has been quite the fun adventure. If there is an author that you have been exchanging PMs with, I would encourage you to explore the possibilities. Toss some ideas around, and give it a shot. This is a very supportive fandom, and I encourage you to try it out._

_And just in case anyone could every possibly think that there is the slightest chance - let us just assure you that without question, without a doubt, neither Lenora nor I own any part of NCIS or Bones (well, other than on DVD!) ;-D_

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Arriving at the NEX, Booth looked around and with a thoughtful look, said, "We should probably assume that the daughter has been in contact with the mother by now. I'm thinking that you should take the lead this time."

Looking over at Booth as they exited the vehicle, Gibbs replied, "Yeah. I wouldn't doubt that she has. Okay, let's try it your way this time."

After asking for the manager, the two agents waited near the front entrance. Hurrying up to them, a man smiled nervously and introduced himself, "Gentlemen? I'm Caleb Bishop, I'm the manager here. Candy told me you wanted to talk to me. What can I do for NCIS and the FBI?"

Holding out his badge, Gibbs responded, "My partner and I would like to interview Tricia Van Pelt."

Flicking his eyes to Booth and then back to Gibbs, Caleb laughed nervously, "Uh, ok. Let me have her paged to come to my office. You can interview her there. . . Is there something I need to know?"

Shaking his head, Gibbs responded, "Nope. We just need to talk to Tricia Van Pelt. Privately."

Shrugging his shoulders, Caleb cleared his throat, "Okay, if you would just follow me I'll take you to my office and she can meet us there."

Glancing at Booth's impassive face, Gibbs turned and followed Caleb with Booth a few paces behind.

ooooo

Waiting for Tricia, Booth watched as the manager fidgeted behind his desk. Caleb, aware that he was being closely observed, cleared his throat, "Is this about that body? Was it a murder? I heard that it was a murder." He laughed nervously, then answered his own question. "I guess it would have to be, wouldn't it? No one just crawls into a garbage bag to die, do they?"

The two agents watched the agitated man as he stuck his finger in the collar of his shirt. "I'll leave when Tricia gets here. That's what you want, isn't it? You want me to leave when Tricia arrives?"

Continuing to give the man a fixed look, Booth nodded his head.

Gibbs amused at Booth's antics, sat down on a chair next to Caleb's desk and watched the doorway without comment.

Arriving at the office, Tricia knocked on the doorframe and leaned into the room, "You wanted to see me, Boss?"

Standing, Caleb pointed at Gibbs and then Booth, "These men are with NCIS and the FBI, Tricia. They need to talk to you."

Nodding her head, Tricia walked into the room and replied, "My daughter called me right after you left the house, I . . ."

Holding up his hand, Booth scowled at the curious manager and motioned with his head toward the open door. Taking the hint, Caleb walked around his desk. Flicking his gaze from the agents to his employee, "Tricia, I have something I have to take care of. I'll leave the three of you to talk." He hurried to the doorway and left as quickly as his dignity allowed.

Tricia turned and watched the man skitter from the room. He reminded her of a hermit crab looking for a place to hide. She addressed the two agentsmen, "Like I started to say, my daughter called me and told me that an agent from NCIS and the FBI had been to my house. That's you two correct?" At their simultaneous nods, she continued, "Mary said that you told her that Perry is dead. That my son is dead."

Watching the woman closely, Gibbs responded, "You don't seem very shook up about the news, Ms. Van Pelt. Is this something you were expecting to hear?"

Crossing her arms across her chest, Tricia replied defensively, "How can you say that? You don't know anything about me. Neither of you do. You don't know how I feel about anything."

Nodding his head, Gibbs stood up, "You're right. I don't. But perhaps you can tell us this, Ms. Van Pelt. Why did you wait five days to report your son missing?"

Glaring, Tricia pursed her lips, "Mary told me that she explained to you about Perry just taking off for days at a time. You can ask his friends. They'll tell you what Mary told you. He'd get tired of living in a house of women and he'd just leave. He'd come back when he needed money or a good home cooked meal."

Aware that Booth was watching her intently, Tricia glanced at him and then dismissed him. Turning back to Gibbs, she added, "Perry hung out with dangerous people, Mr. uh. . . Who are you anyways? I think you should show me your badges."

Pulling his badge and ID out of his pocket, Gibbs replied, "Special Agent Jethro Gibbs, ma'am, NCIS." He pointed at Booth who quickly flashed his badge and then put it back on his belt, "This is my partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth, FBI."

Frowning, Tricia hugged herself, "Perry liked to hang out with bikers. He drank at biker bars. He ran with them and he rode with them. Stuff like that. I told him that they were dangerous; but, what do I know? Whenever I said anything, he'd just tell me to mind my own business; so, I did. No one could tell Perry . . ."

Interrupting the on-going tirade, Booth asked, "Ma'am, how did you get those bruises on your face and around your eyes?"

Startled, Tricia moved her hands to her face, 'How can you . . . I mean, what bruises?"

Shaking his head, Booth responded, "You've done a very good job with your makeup, Ms. Van Pelt; but, I know what I see. You have bruises and black eyes."

Lowering her hands, Tricia sighed, "Perry."

Frowning, Gibbs asked, "Your son beat you?"

Nodding her head, Tricia turned her gaze to her shoe tops, "Perry wasn't very nice and he was worse if he'd been drinking." The agents exchanged a look of understanding as she continued, "If he wanted money and I didn't have any to spare, he'd beat me until I found some."

Staring intently at Tricia, Booth asked, "Did he beat Mary and Ryan? Is that how they got the injuries that we saw? Were those from Perry also?"

Nodding her head, Tricia started to cry, "Yes. He was a good boy. Really, he was. He didn't mean to hit us. He'd just get so angry sometimes or he'd have too much to drink. He didn't mean to hurt us. I know he didn't. He'd apologize when he got sober and saw what he'd done. He didn't mean to hurt us. I know he didn't mean it. He was a good boy and I loved him."

Glancing at Booth and then at Tricia, Gibbs asked, "Did you kill Perry, Tricia?"

Shaking her head vehemently, she looked up and denied it, "No, Agent Gibbs. He was my son. Even though he had a rotten temper, I would never hurt my son. Never. I swear it. I loved him. . . . . If you would just look at his friends you'd see that I'm telling you the truth. He had very dangerous friends."

ooooo

After they left the NEX and were on their way back to the District, Gibbs turned to Booth and asked, "Her makeup was very good. I couldn't tell that she had bruising underneath until you pointed it out. How could you tell?"

Glancing out of the driver's side window and then back to the road ahead, Booth cleared his throat, "Mom was really good at covering up her bruises too. After awhile I learned how to see what she was hiding. She'd defend my father too you know. Like Tricia Van Pelt defended her son. I know that's typical of domestic abuse victims and I get it on some level because I would hide my bruises and defend my Dad too. I knew that was wrong; but, removed from the situation, it's strange. Now, now I just can't even wrap my head around it. I don't understand it. Not anymore."

Sighing, Gibbs closed his eyes and leaned back into his seat. "Yeah. I know. It's strange how our brains work sometimes, eh?" He paused, then, keeping his eyes directed on the road ahead, he continued. "I wish I could have been more helpful with your Dad, Seeley. I'm sorry I couldn't help Joseph. He wanted to be a good man. It's not that he was weak. He was just powerless and he thought that made him weak."

Flicking his eyes at Gibbs, Booth returned his gaze back to the road, "Yeah, I know a little bit about powerlessness." He thought of the poker chip in his pocket. "Powerless or not though, I would never hit Bones or my children." Shaking his head, Booth glanced at his cousin, "It's okay. It was what it was. Anyway, are you buying the Van Pelt's dangerous friends excuse?"

Shaking his head, Gibbs turned towards his temporary partner, "Nah, not really. I think we've already met the murderer. My guts telling me it's either Tricia or Mary." Booth glanced over at him and nodded as Gibbs continued, "I'd like to wait and see what Dr. Brennan says is cause of death. By the way, Ducky is very impressed with her skill at reassembling bones. He's very hopeful that she might really come up with COD."

Proud of Brennan, Booth smiled, "Oh, she will. Bones is the best in the world when it comes to bones and figuring out cause of death. She actually solved a five thousand year old murder once. She proved that some Egyptian prince was wrongly accused of murdering his brother. The Egyptian government gave her an award and threw her a big party at the Jeffersonian."

Impressed, Gibbs smiled, "Wow, that's pretty impressive."

Grinning, Booth nodded his head, "Yeah, I know. She's scary smart and she's the reason my solve rate is so high. Believe me, I know I have a treasure working with me."

Gibbs returned his gaze to the road, nodded his head and replied, "And a treasure in your life as well or am I misreading some signs there?" He smiled at the younger man.

"Absolutely. Absolutely." Curious, Booth asked, "So, I guess you know that Bones and I are living together. That baby you saw the other day is ours. Our daughter. Christine."

Nodding his head, Gibbs smiled, "Yeah, I know."

After a few miles rolled by, Booth asked, "So are you married?"

Picking up Perry's folder and flipping through it, Gibbs reflected on how he would respond. Finally he answered his cousins query, "I've been married a few times."

Intrigued by the tidbit of information, Booth asked, "Do you have any kids?"

Closing the folder, Gibbs replied, "I did. My first wife, Shannon and our daughter, Kelly were murdered in 1991. Kelly was eight years old."

Swallowing, Booth glanced at Gibbs' sad face and then forward again, "I'm sorry Jethro. I didn't mean to. . . I'm sorry for your loss. I'm not sure what I'd do if Bones and Christine were taken from me. I shouldn't have asked."

Shaking his head, Gibbs assured Booth, "You didn't know. It was a long time ago. . . I do miss them. They were probably the best part of me."

Nodding his head, Booth sighed, "Yeah, I know what you mean."

* * *

_A/N: 1991 must have been a bad year. That also the year that Max Keenan and his wife Ruth (Christine) abandoned their children, Temperance and Russ._

_We appreciate reviews from readers. Please let us know what you think we are doing well, where we could improve. If you have prompts (or reminders), please feel free to pass them on either in a review or a PM. (This is how we were reminded of Shannon and Kelly and also how our mistake earlier in this fic was caught that Gibbs is from Stillwater NOT Stillwell! I knew that! Really, I did. But my fingers got ahead of my brain (not an unusual occurrence), and there you have it.  
_

_Thanks to all of you for reading . . . . just a little nod that you were here (even just in passing) would be appreciated.  
_


	11. Chapter 11

_Thank you for the reviews. They keep us motivated. Even though traffic stats show that the story is getting hits, we don't know that people are reading it, unless we get comments. Thank you for taking the time to encourage us._

_This story is a collaboration between FaithInBones and Penandra. We are having a lot of fun working on this little fic. It would be nice if we owned either NCIS or Bones (other than on DVD), but that is not the case. We do like to play with the characters though . . . and it gives us the opportunity to answer some questions that come up when we see the same actor on both shows, or to fill in some blank moments._

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The men rode in silence for several miles. When they were about half way back to the District Gibbs turned towards his cousin, "How would you feel about getting Jackson and Hank together at least once more before they're gone?"

Flicking his eyes at Gibbs and then back toward the road, Booth snorted, "Really?" He glanced over at Gibbs to be sure the man was serious. "You're serious? I'm pretty sure that Pops won't agree to something like that."

Studying the younger man's profile, Gibbs asked, "Do you know what really happened to start this feud?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Booth answered, "Pops said that your Dad was responsible for their father's death. The story that I heard is that they were out on the Chesapeake, down near Chester. You know the Bay with all of those inlets. Jackson was driving the boat and it hit something. They took on water fairly quickly and the boat sank. They were just out for the day and weren't properly equipped and didn't have a radio on board. Pops said that he was hurt and must have passed out. He doesn't know how long he was out or what happened between the boat hitting something and him coming to in the water; but he said that his father drowned and he blamed Jackson for his death."

Sighing, Gibbs stared at the road ahead, "Yeah, except that there is more to the story."

Smiling sadly, Booth replied, "There always is."

Surprised at Booth's response, Gibbs smiled too, "Yea. The way that it was told to me was that there were only two life jackets on the boat and their father insisted that my Dad help him put one of them on Hank and he insisted that my Dad wear the other one. He told Dad that he was a strong swimmer and he didn't need it. Dad said that his father tread water for hours and that he'd float when he got tired; but, they were in the water too long and he wasn't as strong a swimmer as he'd claimed." Gibbs glanced over at the younger man and the look of concentration on his face. He continued, "Dad said he begged his father to take turns with his life vest; but, he wouldn't do it. Dad spent the whole time holding Hank in his arms and keeping his head out of the water. They'd been in the water for hours when Hank woke up crying in pain. Hank noticed that their father wasn't in sight and that's when Dad noticed that Joseph was missing. He figures that while he must have fallen asleep and that his father drowned. They never did find Joseph's body."

Nodding his head, Booth remarked, "Yeah, that's a little more than I know about it. Pops said that if Jackson hadn't been so reckless about driving the boat then the accident wouldn't have happened. He was supposed to be following some course that their father laid out on the chart; but, Pops swears that Jackson must have veered off course. It's easy to do in that part of the Bay."

Surprised at this new tidbit, Gibbs replied, "Now I've never heard that part of the feud before. That's interesting. . . . Dad said that finally a sail boat came by and radioed a distress signal to the Coast Guard station at St. Inigoes. You do know that your grandfather told the Coast Guard that their father was driving the boat not Dad?"

Nodding his head, Booth glanced at the older man, "Yeah, Pops said that he'd lost his father; so, there was no way he was going to lose his brother to jail or something. . . . Pops is kind of weird about the whole thing. He says he hates Jackson; but, I know for a fact he can't stand for anyone to bad mouth him. He always told me and Jared that he didn't want the feud to go any further and that he hoped that one day we would connect with you. You know why I didn't try."

Shaking his head, "Dad thinks Hank hates him because of the life vests, the fact that their Dad didn't have one."

Pursing his lips, Booth explained, "Nah, as far as I know it has to do with Jackson driving the boat. . . Did you know that Pops bought a burial plot at the Holy Cross Cemetery and put up a headstone for his father? My grandmother, Pop's wife is buried next to that plot and Pops is going to be buried next to her. My Dad is buried on the other side of the stone. There are two other plots next to Dad if Jared or I want to use them. If we don't Pops said to sell them after he dies. I'm going to be buried at Arlington; so, I don't need them. If you and your Dad want them let me know. You can have them as far as I'm concerned."

Curious, Gibbs asked, "What about Jared? Maybe he'd like them?"

Shaking his head, Booth replied, "Nah, he's going to be buried next to Mom."

Turning to look at his younger cousin, Gibbs asked, "What about Temperance?"

Smiling, Booth replied, "As a matter of fact, we talked about this recently. Last month we had this case, anyway, she originally had a Last Will and Testament that was 312 pages. Her plan was to have her body carried ot a mountain top, dismembered and pulverized with a hammer to allow for, I think she said, the optimum scavening by vultures!" He glanced over at the look on Gibbs' face and laughed. "Yeah, I know! It's the anthropologist in her. She's reduced the the Will down to 306 pages. Now she just wants to have her ashes scattered over a volcano." As he glanced over at his cousin he couldn't help by chortle.

Gibbs shook his head, "A volcano? She wants her ashes scattered over a volcano? A live volcano?" When the man in the driver's seat nodded his head, Gibbs pursed his lips and nodded his head, "Well, that's one approach. Does she get ideas like this often?"

Booth nodded his head with a resigned look on his face. "You really don't want an answer to that question! As you get to know her you'll see. Don't even get me started on the discussions we had before Christine was born about birthing babies. As it was, our daughter made an early appearance and was born in a stable with me as the attending!"

Gibbs stared at the other agent, "You're not joking ar you? In a stable? What, there was no room at the Inn? Don't tell me there were three Wise Men!"

Booth smiled at the memory of their frantic drive from the prison and his daughter's birth. "As a matter of fact . . ." He glanced over at the shocked look on Gibbs's face. "Let's just say that it was quite an experience. One I am not anxious to repeat, ever."

Gibbs continued to shake his head in wonder. "Our family never does anything the easy way, do we? Okay, let me talk to Dad about meeting Hank. I'm guessing that he'll probably say no about he plots; but, at least I can give him the option. I think he plans to be buried next to his mother. I'm going to be buried next to Shannon and Kelly."

Laughing softly, Booth remarked, "Grams always said that if you tell God everything is wrapped up, he may feel free to take you. I try not to have too many plans; but, Bones and I do have an appointment with our attorney to take care of formalizing everything so we both know where all the information resides when we need it." He glanced back at Gibbs and said, "Wow, from where we started when we got into the SUV this morning, part of this conversation took a turn towards the weird."

Chuckling, Gibbs stared at the passing scenery, "Yeah, but I'm glad we were able to clear the air. As far as I know, other than Dad, you, Jared and Hank are my only living relatives. I'd like it if we could try to keep communication open between us even when this case is over." At Booth's nod, Gibbs continued, "So, do you want to try to get Hank and Dad together?"

Nodding his head, Booth smiled and glanced at his cousin, "Yeah, what the hell. If the two of us can mend fences, we can see if we can't encourage them to do the same. At the very least it will be entertaining for us, eh?"

ooooo

Walking off of the elevator at NCIS, Gibbs noticed Ziva and Tony bickering about something. He walked up behind Tony and smacked the younger agent on the back of the head.

Tony turned towards Gibbs, "Hey, Boss. Dr. Brennan called a few minutes ago. She says she has cause of death for Perry Van Pelt."

Surprised, Gibbs sat down behind his desk, "Wow, I thought it would take longer than that. What did she say?"

Sitting on the edge of his desk, Tony responded, "He was stabbed with a knife with a serrated blade. The knife pierced his femur and probably severed the femoral artery. He would have bled out pretty fast."

Curious, Ziva sat down behind her desk and looked at Gibbs, "What did you find out in Chesapeake?"

Looking up from a report he'd been skimming, Gibbs replied, "Tricia, Mary and Mary's son Ryan Van Pelt were being abused by Perry Van Pelt. Tricia says that he was probably killed by some bikers he knew. Tony, I need you to look into his background more."

Staring at his superior, Tony asked, "You believe the biker theory?"

Shaking his head, Gibbs replied, "No . . . No I don't but I want to make sure before I completely dismiss it. In the mean time, Ziva I need you to find out if there have been any domestic disturbance calls to the police placed by Mary or Tricia Van Pelt in the last few years. Agent Booth can probably help with that."

Tim, listening in, volunteered, "I could find that out Boss."

Not looking up from his report, Gibbs reminded Tim, "Agent Booth is part of this investigation. Let him do that part. You help Tony track down Perry's background."

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_Thanks so much for reading our fic. Please, let us know your thoughts. Are we keeping them in character? Are we answering the questions you have?_


	12. Chapter 12

_This story is a collaboration between FaithInBones and Penandra and came about after an email discussion about Ralph Waite's role on NCIS and Bones. Although there is a picfic making the rounds on Pinterest that Booth is actually Gibbs' illegitimate son, we like our version/expalanation better. _

_Neither FaithInBones nor I own either NCIS or Bones. Although, we wouldn't mind renting Booth or Gibbs for a few days. (I think FaithInBones might prefer Tony, but I'm a Gibbs fan ;-D)_

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At Gibbs' direction, Ziva contacted Booth to ask him for information on any domestic disturbance calls that may have been made to the Van Pelt home in Chesapeake.

When Agent Shaw brought him the report that evening, he looked it over and called Ziva hoping to catch her at her desk before she left for the day. Studying the report, Booth said, "I have the information that you wanted. How about if we meet for lunch at the Royal Diner tomorrow, say 11:30? We can look it over together and see what jumps out at us."

Ziva replied, "I can come by the Hoover before or after lunch, if that works better for you."

Glancing at the calendar on his laptop, Booth shook his head, "No. I have meetings lined up all morning tomorrow and my schedule in the afternoon is even worse. It would be easier for me if we could meet at the Diner, would that be a problem?"

Realizing that Booth was probably a very busy man, Ziva replied, "No, that would be fine. I'll see you at 11:30, the Royal Diner."

Before ending the call, Booth remarked, "Oh, it's possible that Bones, umm, . . . Dr. Brennan may join us."

Smiling, Ziva replied, "That would be fine. I look forward to meeting her."

ooooo

Arriving at the Diner, Ziva noticed an attractive man raise his hand in acknowledgement when she walked in. As she headed toward the table she took in the beautiful woman sitting next to him. Ziva assumed that this was the Dr. Brennan that Tony and Ducky had mentioned. She also noticed that there was a third person at the table, a young man sitting across from Dr. Brennan.

Walking up to the empty chair across the table from Booth, Ziva smiled, "I am NCIS Special Agent Ziva David."

Booth stood and stuck out his hand in greeting. "Seeley Booth, you can call me Booth." He replied with a smile then pointed at the empty chair, "Ziva, nice to meet you. You're just in time, we were just getting ready to order lunch. This is Dr. Temperance Brennan and Dr. Lance Sweets. I asked them to join us. I thought they might have something to contribute to the discussion."

Ziva nodded and smiled at the two other people as she sat next to Sweets. "I am very glad to meet you, Dr. Brennan. Ducky has been very excited to be working with you on this case. I am not sure I have ever seen him so willing to work with someone else."

Brennan nodded her head in acknowledgement as she responded, "Agent David, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm not quite certain why Dr. Mallard asked me to help with the skeleton. I am quite certain he could have accomplished reconstruction without my help. He is very adept at his job."

Shrugging her shoulders, Ziva explained, "I believe that Ducky felt that you could do it more quickly."

Booth pointing to Sweets, "Agent David, Doctor Lance Sweets is my profiler. He works with us on cases from time to time."

Sweets, fascinated with Ziva's origins asked, "Agent David," Sweets nodded his head at her and held out his hand to shake her hand, "Agent Booth was telling me that you are originally from Israel and transferred to NCIS a few years ago. How do you like working for NCIS?"

Glancing around the table, she said, "Ziva, please, if that is okay with all of you?" Acknowledging their nods, she turned back to the man next to her, she returned his penetrating look, Ziva replied, "I very much like working at NCIS, although it took some adjusting. When I first worked with them I was a liaison officer with Mossad, but now am an Agent. " She picked up the menu as she turned back towards Booth and Brennan, "Is there anything special on the menu that you would recommend?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Booth replied, "They make a really good hamburger, made from fresh meat and their fries are home cut."

Nodding her head, Ziva replied, "That sounds fine."

Dr. Brennan appraised the agent. "They do have an excellent vegetarian selection here. too. That is quite unusual for this type of a diner." She smiled.

Ziva glanced over the menu and replied, "I think I'll go with the hamburger today although I may ask for some suggestions on vegetarian meals at another time."

Dr. Brennan nodded and glanced over at her partner. He seemed to have had his attention drawn to something on the street and she sensed him pull back. Glancing out the window she spotted a clown walk past the diner. Ziva followed their looks and gave a start. She glanced back to Agent Booth. Curious at his tense body language she remarked, "I hate clowns."

Surprised, Booth turned to the agent, "I know, right? How can you trust someone dressed in that much makeup?"

Nodding her head, Ziva watched the clown cross the street, "Exactly."

Smiling, Sweets watched the camaraderie that a common phobia had quickly established between the two agents, "Agent Booth won't tell anyone why he hates clowns."

Shrugging her shoulders, Ziva noticed their waitress standing next to them, "One does not need a reason to hate clowns."

Smirking, Booth pointed at his menu and ordered a BLT and fries. Marge took everyone else's order, and as she walked over to the counter Booth slid a folder across the table towards Ziva. "You might want to look this over. There were quite a few domestic disturbance calls to the Van Pelt family home starting in 1990 in Jacksonville, Florida. Calls involving Terry Hampton Van Pelt and his wife Tricia. Those calls ran up until they left Florida in 1996. There are also reports from the Chesapeake PD. Domestic disturbance calls started almost as soon as they relocated to the area and went through 1997 when Terry was killed in an accident. Interestingly the calls started again in 2004 and this time involved Perry Van Pelt and his mother Tricia."

Flipping through the folder, Ziva glanced at the copies of the police reports, "So the abuse in the family began with the father and continued when the son, Perry turned 15 years of age."

Sighing, Booth nodded his head, "Yeah, that happens."

Brennan looked at the two agents. Nodding towards Sweets, she said, "I don't know about psychological reasons, but anthropological studies have shown that domestic abuse runs in families. I remember a professor saying, 'Dad hits Mom. Mom hits the kids and they all kick the dog.' I think that is a generality, of course." Noticing that Booth stiffened next to her, she hastened to add, "What I'm sure Dr. Sweets could attest to is that it takes someone willing to change the situation to break the chain of abuse."

Having noticed the change in Booth's body language, Sweets looked between the two partners and smiled as he watched Dr. Brennan take hold of Booth's hand and give it a squeeze. He watched as they looked at each other and both visibly relaxed at the silent conversation the two had with each other. "I don't know how they do that," he thought. "But if I could bottle that and give it to other couples, I could retire a rich man!"

Tapping the police reports, he was pulled from his thought as Ziva observed, "It doesn't appear that charges were ever filed for any of the calls."

Waiting to respond while Marge set down their drinks, Booth responded, "Yeah, I noticed that too. That is not necessarily unusual in domestic abuse cases. Part of the mystery of the whole phenomenon."

Ziva closed the folder, "Tricia Van Pelt and probably her daughter, have been abused for a very long time first by the husband and father and now apparently by the son and brother. Perhaps one of them snapped and could not take it any longer. Perry hit his mother or sister and one of them killed him."

Listening to the two agents discuss the case, Sweets glanced between the others at the table. "Or he hit Mary's son. If he started hitting Ryan, that could have been enough of a catalyst to get one of them to retaliate and fight back."

Shrugging his shoulders, Booth replied, "That's certainly a possibility; but, right now all we have is cause of death, a serrated knife blade and no other evidence. We don't have cause to get a warrant to search their home yet. We have no finger prints on the bags that held the body and any DNA that we find on the victim that might have come from Tricia or Mary can be explained away by their lawyer. Perry lived with them and if the police reports are to be believed, he beat them regularly. Any DNA we find from them on him isn't probable cause."

Disgusted with the situation, Ziva shook her head, "So if Tricia did kill her son, she may get away with it?"

Booth stared at his cup of coffee, then picked up the cup, "Dr. Hodgins, one of the squints at the Jeffersonian and Ms. Sciuto are still going over particulates. They may find something. Hodgins is very good and I understand that Ms. Scuito is one of the best as well. If anyone can find anything, I'm guessing we have the best on the case." He grimaced as he continued, "But, as I'm sure you know, that is the smelly part of the job, Ziva Sometimes murderers really do get away with murder."

Staring at Booth's solemn face, Sweets remarked, "It would be kind of ironic if Perry's mother killed him and she got away with it because his beating her would explain any evidence we found on the body."

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___We appreciate the encouragement you offer by leaving reviews, thank you for taking a moment to leave us a comment. _ Reviews are our way of knowing what you think and that we are headed in the right direction.


	13. Chapter 13

_This story is a collaboration between FaithInBones and Penandra. Neither of us own either Bones or NCIS. I have to wonder how our lives would be different if we did . . . . . . Okay, back to the reality of being fan fiction writers. Okay. Yeah. No Bones. No NCIS. No Booth. No Gibbs. No DiNozzo. We're fan fiction writers. Okay. We're back. Yeah.  
_

_We are grateful for the fan fiction readers in both fandoms. Thank you for going along for the ride!_

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Gibbs sat at his desk looking through the background check DiNozzo and McGee had compiled for Perry Van Pelt. When his phone rang, he glanced at the caller ID and was surprised to see Booth's name and number. He hadn't expected to hear from the other Agent this quickly. Picking up the phone, he said, "Gibbs. Do you have something for me, Booth?"

Booth chuckled and replied, "Jethro. You'll never guess who showed up at the Hoover twenty minutes ago."

Curious, Gibbs asked, "Who would that be?"

Booth answered, "Mary Van Pelt. She said she came here because it's easier to get to the Hoover than the NCIS building. She wants to talk to both of us."

"Hmmm," Gibbs frowned. "I'll be there in less than thirty." Ending the call, he stood and opened his desk drawer to pull out his gun. Looking up toward the younger agents, he called out, "DiNozzo, get the car, we're going to the Hoover."

Standing, DiNozzo raised his eyebrows questioningly, "What's going on over there, Boss?"

Attaching the gun to his belt, Gibbs replied, "Mary Van Pelt just showed up. Said she wants to talk to us."

DiNozzo tilted his head as he responded, "Well, that's interesting." Walking towards the elevator, Tony called back to Ziva, "When Tim gets back with my sandwich, don't eat it."

Laughing, Ziva replied, "Do not worry Tony. I am not interested in your sandwich unless it is a po-boy from Cajun Joes."

Worried, DiNozzo stepped onto the elevator, "Ziva, don't eat my sandwich!"

Rolling his eyes, Gibbs punched the button for the parking garage.

ooooo

Standing in the observation room with the other two agents, Booth nodded toward the distraught looking woman sitting on the other side of the glass. "Mary Van Pelt. She showed up and told me that she had something important to confess. She wants you to be here because she thinks you're the primary on this case."

Grinning at the other man, Gibbs asked, "Aren't I?"

Laughing, Booth replied, "Well, technically, I guess you are."

Shaking his head, Gibbs pointed to the woman in the other room. "Let's go talk to her." Glancing at DiNozzo, Gibbs ordered, "You stay here."

Turning towards the window, DiNozzo replied, "Sure thing, Boss."

ooooo

Sitting across the table from Mary, Booth sat back and observed as Gibbs talked to their visitor.

Looking directly at the troubled woman, Gibbs stated, "Agent Booth said that you needed to talk to the two of us."

Nodding her head slowly, Mary looked between the two agents, then fixed her eyes on the wall behind them. "I've decided to turn myself in. I killed my brother."

Frowning, Gibbs asked, "Perhaps Agent Booth should read you your rights, Ms. Van Pelt."

Shrugging her shoulders, Mary responded, "Go ahead. It won't change anything though."

Leaning forward, Booth informed Mary of her Miranda rights. As soon as he was done, Booth asked, "Why did you kill your brother, Ms. Van Pelt?"

Sighing, Mary looked down at her hands clasped together in front of her as she answered, "Perry came home drunk and told me that he needed money. He said that he'd made a bet with someone named Marco and he'd lost the bet. He said that if he didn't come up with the money, Marco would break his legs." She looked up at the two agents, and shrugged her shoulders. "I told him I didn't have any money. I'd just paid the rent and it was five days before I was going to be paid again. That made him angry and he started hitting me. He kept hitting and hitting and hitting. But I couldn't give him something I didn't have. Mom came home while he was hitting me and she tried to stop him." Her eyes went back down to the tabletop as she continued. "Perry told her he needed money to pay off Marco and that if I wasn't going to give it to him, then she would. Mom told him she didn't have any money and he started beating her."

She paused and looked at both of the men. "By then, my son had come back from the babysitter and Ryan started crying and he tried to stop Perry from hitting Mom." Placing her hands over her eyes, Mary began to weep, "He hurt my son, Agent Gibbs. My son. It's one thing to hurt me and Mom; but he hurt my son! I couldn't allow him to do that. I ran into the kitchen, grabbed a knife and came back into the living room and stabbed him. I wanted him to die for hurting my son. I wanted him to die, and I killed him!"

Trembling, Mary shook her head and sobbed, "Perry was evil. He was evil and I had to stop him. I know what I did was wrong and I'm willing to pay the price for what I did."

Rubbing his bottom lip, Gibbs asked, "Your mother witnessed this?"

Nodding her head, Mary continued to cry.

Staring intently at the agitated woman, Booth asked, "Why did you cut up your brother's body and dump it in the dumpster behind the NEX?"

Removing her hands from her face, Mary replied softly, "I didn't know what to do. I was afraid and I didn't want to go to jail for murder; so I thought that if I cut up his body and disposed of it somewhere that we could just say that he left and we didn't know where he was. He hung out with bad people and we knew Marco would be looking for him for the money Perry owed him. So, I stuffed his body in the garbage bags and drove it over to the NEX after hours. I knew that the trash would be picked up early the next morning. But I threw the bags into the dumpster. I didn't leave them next to it."

Glancing at Gibbs, Booth asked, "Did your mother help you cut up your brother's body?"

Mary winced at the question. Shaking her head, she responded, "No, absolutely not. I had Mom take Ryan away from the house and I did it by myself. The only one that committed a crime was me. I killed him. I did it all. I chopped him up and I dumped his body. It was all me. No one else was involved. Just me. I admit it."

Shaking his head, Gibbs replied, "Do you have a lawyer?"

Staring at the top of the desk, Mary responded, "I can't afford a lawyer. I don't need one any way since I admit I did it."

ooooo

Back in the observation room, Booth stared through the window as Mary continued to weep. "I don't think she did it." He looked over at Gibbs and DiNozzo.

Sighing, Gibbs watched Booth lean against the room's window. "There isn't a lot we can do if she confesses to the crime. We can try to talk to her and see if she'll change her mind. But, any forensic evidence in the Van Pelt house will probably prove that Perry was killed there. Just not by who. If she's going to confess . . . " Gibbs let the sentence trail off as he watched the younger man.

Nodding his head over towards DiNozzo, Booth responded, "I think Special Agent DiNozzo should call Tricia Van Pelt and tell her that Mary has confessed to the murder of Perry Van Pelt."

Interested, DiNozzo glanced at Gibbs then back at Booth, "You suspect Tricia Van Pelt murdered her son?"

Nodding his head, Booth replied, "I think Tricia was being beaten and when Perry realized that his mother wasn't going to give him any money he went after his nephew. Tricia snapped and killed her son to protect her grandson."

Curious, DiNozzo asked, "Why don't you think Mary did it?"

Glancing back at Mary, Booth replied, "She said that Ryan had just come back from the babysitter. Mary works the afternoon shift. Three p.m. until closing. Tricia works the earlier day shift. She gets off at five. I called the manager of the NEX yesterday to verify the times they work and had him check their time cards."

He sighed and pushed himself away from the window. Turning he leaned his back against the wall. "The body was found behind the NEX on a night that Mary didn't have to work. I believe that she dumped the body of her brother. But if we go back to time of death, according to the evidence that Dr. Hodgins and Ms. Scuito collected, Perry had been dead five days before his body was discovered. We know from the dumpster divers when they found the body, that they had been there between time of death and when the body was found, and it wasn't there. That means that Perry was killed on a day when Mary was at work. She wasn't in the house when her brother was killed."

Looking back through the window at the woman in the other room, Gibbs shook his head, "So she's trying to take the blame to protect her mother."

Nodding his head at the woman in the interrogation room, Booth replied, "We need to get a search warrant for the house in Chesapeake. Might even have the local LEO's handle that. I think the house is the crime scene, and I'm guessing they maybe stashed the body in the garage until they decided what to do." Booth shook his head. "I'm sure she helped her mother by disposing of the body. I don't know if she helped cut up the body; but, I'm pretty sure that Tricia was the one that killed Perry not Mary. But we need to check the house and garage. I'm sure we'll find what we need."

Sadly DiNozzo watched the overwrought woman, "It must be horrible to live in a house like that."

Looking down at the white knuckles on his clenched hands, Booth replied, "Yeah, it must be."

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_Thanks to those of you reading our story. We're grateful to be allowed to show up on your screen, and hope that you will take a few minutes to click on the small review button (yes, that one right down there) and let us know your thoughts about the ride we're taking you on. We're having fun with it, we hope you are as well._


	14. Chapter 14

_Okay. We are aware that we started this little fic to explore the relationship between Hank Booth and Jackson Gibbs. In TV land they work in the same town, Booth has a grandfather that looks suspiciously like Gibbs' Dad. So, we got a little off-track by adding a murder to the mix._

_Neither of us (FaithInBones and Penandra) own either Bones or NCIS. We would think anyone reading on this site would know that, but we keep putting this disclaimer out there, just in case - perhaps to remind ourselves?!_

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Mary Van Pelt was moved to a holding cell since they'd been unable to get her to recant her confession. Booth offered to turn her over to NCIS; but Gibbs had decided that he'd leave Mary at the Hoover for the time being.

Walking up to the doorway of Booth's office, DiNozzo took note of the two men inside. They appeared to be deeply involved in their conversation. Knocking on the door frame, he stuck his head into the room. "I talked to Tricia Van Pelt." He nodded at Gibbs and said, "She reacted like you thought she would, Boss. She's on her way."

Motioning DiNozzo into the room and gesturing toward the empty chair near the door, Booth asked, "How did she sound?"

Chuckling, DiNozzo replied, "Oh, I'd say that she was a little mad." He grinned as he nodded his head. "She started cussing a blue streak. When she finally calmed down she told me that Mary is innocent and she could prove it." Shaking his head, he continued, "That woman could make a sailor blush! She said that she will wait until Ryan gets home from school and then she'll arrange for a cousin to take care of him while she gets this mess sorted out. Her words by the way."

Standing, Gibbs turned towards his cousin, "We'll head back to the office." He glanced at DiNozzo and gestured toward the doorway. "Call us when she shows up."

Acknowledging Gibbs' words, Booth smiled, "It'll be interesting to hear what Tricia has to say."

Standing and joining Gibbs near the doorway, DiNozzo interjected, "As angry as she is, you'll probably get an ear full."

Shrugging his shoulder, Booth replied, "I'll try not to let her hurt my feelings."

Answering Booth's comment with a chortle and a wave, DiNozzo followed Gibbs out of the office.

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Walking over to his desk, DiNozzo quickly scanned the top. Turning on his heel, he stepped across the short space to Ziva's desk, moved around to her waste basket, picked it up and moved some waste paper aside. Seeing that it was empty of sandwich wrappers, he leaned over Ziva's shoulder and quietly asked, "Where is it?"

Her eyes sparkling, Ziva turned her head and schooling her facial expression, replied with a question of her own, "Where is what, Tony?"

Squinting, DiNozzo placed his left hand on her desk and leaned on it, "Where's my sandwich Agent David?"

"I will never tell." The beautiful agent replied with a chuckle.

Sighing, DiNozzo straightened and glared at his partner, "Next time I'm ordering extra jalapenos."

Smiling sweetly, Ziva responded, "Good. I like sandwiches that are spicy."

Watching the two younger agents, Gibbs barked, "DiNozzo, go check with Abby and see if she and Dr. Hodgins have come up with anything new. If Tricia is coming in, I want to have something other than her word about what happened."

Glaring at Ziva, Dinozzo responded, "Sure thing, Boss."

Sticking her tongue out at his retreating form, Ziva then turned back to the report she was completing.

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Entering Abby's lab DiNozzo noticed her leaning over a table studying what looked like a piece of green plastic. Jack Hodgins, leaning against the table looked up at the agent and remarked, "He didn't bring it."

Looking up, Abby frowned, "Where's my drink?"

Shrugging his shoulders, DiNozzo responded, "Probably with my sandwich. Tim wasn't at his desk, so if you didn't get what you ordered then you'll have to wait and talk to him about it."

Shaking her head, Abby held up the green piece of plastic, "Never mind, Jack and I found something very interesting. Do you want to hear what it is?"

Grimacing, DiNozzo responded, "No, I just came down here to hear you fuss at me about drinks."

Frowning, Abby responded, "Be nice, Tony." Holding the item in front of the agent, Abby continued, "The blood on this part of the bag has hair stuck in it that doesn't belong to our victim. The hair strands are long and brown and our victim had short red hair."

Puzzled, DiNozzo stated the obvious, "So run a DNA test and determine who the hair belongs to."

Laughing, Jack looked at Abby with an innocent look and quipped, "Gee why didn't we think of that?"

Smiling, Abby shook her head, "Of course we ran a DNA test, Tony. We haven't had a hit in any of the databases, yet. However, I can tell you that it belongs to someone related to the victim. From the markers, it appears that most likely the hair belongs to the victim's mother."

Rubbing his jaw, DiNozzo said, "Great job, too bad it really doesn't help very much."

Curious, Jack asked, "Why not?"

Shrugging his shoulders, the agent replied, "Our victim was beating the crap out of his mother and sister on a regular basis. The day he was killed, he'd been beating both of them. Nice guy, eh?" he scowled as he continued. "If you find any blood or hair on him or in the bags, a good lawyer will be able to explain them away as having been transferred from her to Perry when he was hurting her."

A little exasperated, Jack responded, "Damn it. So any evidence we find in these bags or on the body can be explained away if it belongs to family members."

Nodding his head, DiNozzo replied, "Yep, afraid so."

Shaking his head, Hodgins remarked, "I really hate domestic violence cases. No one wins. Everyone loses."

Turning on his heel to exit the lab, DiNozzo muttered under his breath, "Ain't it the truth. Ain't it the truth."

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_Just to give you a little insight about one of the writers you're reading, this is the same mind that wonders if Booth knows that Rebecca is no longer a lawyer, and while she may be telling him she's in England with Parker, she's actually taken another identity and is a doctor in Seattle. Then there's the fact that Micah gave up his job at the Jeffersonian and is in Toronto and leading an SRU team . . . or that Wendell was undercover up in New York working with Caskett._

_Scary how my brain works, eh?._

_Am I the only one who thinks this way? Please! Tell me I'm not . . . . click on the little button there (yes, that one) and leave us a review. Thank you!_


	15. Chapter 15

_Thank you so much for your kind reviews. We are glad you are enjoying our story. Thanks especially to Lindycat and Fluffybird for triggering even MORE questions . . . Shannon apparently survived and must have been placed in Witness Protection – now she's Richard Castle's ex-wife. And Micah! After working as a security guard at the Jeffersonian (he was only there for the lectures, of course), he moved to Toronto and was the head of an SRU team, but now appears to be back in the States and has a daughter. My life is quite dull and boring in comparison! Aren't you glad you don't have to live in MY head!? ;-)_

_This story is a collaboration between FaithInBones and Penandra. We WILL get back to Jackson and Hank, we've just taken a slight detour. In the meantime, we definitely do not own either NCIS or Bones. We keep hoping to hear something from either HH and Bellisario; but, alas nothing._

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Gibbs absently flipped through the report he'd just finished, as he reached for his phone. "Gibbs".

"Hey! It's Booth. Tricia Van Pelt is here and she's pissed!" Booth gave a chuckle. "Since you're the lead in the investigation into her son's murder, I thought you'd like to join me. You know, get your fair share."

Gibbs laughed as he replied, "On my way."

Catching Ziva's eye as he looked up, he said, "Get the truck. We're going to the Hoover."

Nodding her head in affirmation and smiling, Ziva stood, grabbed her gun and ID from her desk then headed to the elevator, Gibbs following after her.

Arriving at his desk shortly afterward, DiNozzo threw a wadded up piece of paper at the McGee's head, "Hey McSmurf, where's the Boss and Ziva?"

Frowning, McGee looked up from his monitor and replied, "They were headed over to the Hoover about fifteen minutes ago, Tony. Booth called. Tricia Van Pelt finally showed up."

Disappointed, the senior agent muttered, "Damn, I wanted to be there when they talk to her."

Curious, McGee asked, "Why?"

Smiling, DiNozzo replied, "The way she was cussing at me on the phone, I wanted to see her first hand. It should be pretty entertaining over there when Gibbs and Booth interrogate her."

Returning his gaze to his monitor, Tim replied, "I'm sure Ziva will fill you in if you ask her."

Sighing, DiNozzo responded, "It won't be the same. Facial expressions are everything when it comes to the Boss being cussed out."

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Entering the observation room down the hall from Booth's office, Gibbs found his cousin leaning against the window, talking to a tech sitting at the table next to him. Spotting Gibbs entering the room, Booth pointed his right thumb over his shoulder, "Tricia's been quiet since I put her in the interrogation room."

Glancing at Tricia, Gibbs nodded, "Has she said anything?"

Laughing, Booth replied, "Oh yeah! None of it I'd care to have my daughter hear though. She's been read her rights and she's waved her rights to counsel."

Smiling, Gibbs responded, "And from the sounds of it, her right to remain silent!" Laughing, he turned to Ziva, "Stay here." Glancing over at Booth, he nodded toward the door and said, "Ready when you are."

ooooo

Glaring at the two men entering the room, Tricia pushed herself up from the table, "What the fu. . . "

Quickly holding up his hand, Booth interrupted, "It would be better for everyone if you'd calm down Ms. Van Pelt. You volunteered to come in. No one made you come down here to talk to us."

Frowning, Tricia growled, "The hell you didn't. You've arrested my daughter for the murder of her brother. She didn't do it."

Pointing at the chair behind the table, Gibbs demanded, "Please sit down Ms. Van Pelt."

Returning to her seat, Tricia grimaced, leaned against the back of the chair and crossed her arms against her chest. Watching the two agents sit down across the table from her, she calmly replied with an exaggerated tenor to her voice, "You have arrested my daughter for a murder she did not commit." Pursing her lips, she scathingly continued, "Is that calm enough for you?"

Smiling, Gibbs calmly replied, "Yes, thank you. Now, if your daughter didn't kill her brother, perhaps you could tell us who did?"

Clearing her throat, Tricia glanced down at the table and took a deep breath. Raising her eyes to look directly at the two men, she replied, "I did, of course."

Returning her direct look, Booth repeated, "Of course."

Irritated, Tricia glared at Booth, "You don't know what it was like to live in that house! First being smacked around by your no good, son-of-bitch husband every time he got a snoot full and then when your son is old enough and big enough he takes over the family tradition. It's a hell of a life, Agent Booth. We don't all get to live in a Brady Bunch family!"

Schooling his face into a blank mask, Booth continued to look at the woman across the table.

Annoyed, Gibbs asked, "Why kill your son now, Ms. Van Pelt? What was so different about this time versus any other time?"

Turning her glare to Gibbs' calm face, Tricia answered, "It was one thing for that little thug to beat me. To hurt me. But when he grabbed Ryan I lost it. I had to draw the line right there. He was hurting my grandbaby and I couldn't let him do that! He'd never touched Ryan before. Never! When he did it I just snapped. I was done. Done. I had to protect my grandson, Agent Gibbs. When he grabbed Ryan and started throwing him around like a rag doll I ran into the kitchen, grabbed a steak knife and ran back out into the living room. I stabbed my son, Agent Gibbs. I killed my son to protect my grandson and I'd do it again."

Making a few notes, Booth asked, "Could you tell us how it all started and the events leading up to your son's death?"

Taking another deep breath and looking notably calmer, Tricia nodded her head and replied, "My son was in over his head with his damn gambling. He said that he owed some guy named Marco a butt load of cash and he didn't have the money. That's no surprise. He never had any of his own money. He didn't have a damn red cent to his name. He was slapping Mary around when I came home. He told me that she didn't have the money and then he demanded that I give him the money. Six thousand dollars, Agent Booth. Six thousand dollars. Hell's bells, if I had six thousand dollars do you think I'd be living paycheck to paycheck? Do you think I'd have to rely on my daughter to help with the bills? Hell no, I didn't have six thousand dollars. He expected me to whistle it up though. When I told him I didn't have it, he started beating me, as if that would conjure up money I didn't have. My grandson came home from the babysitter when all of this mess was happening and Perry turned on him. I don't know if he thought that was going to get him the money or what. Frankly, I don't think he was even thinking. He was just in such a rage. He grabbed Ryan and started throwing him around and threatening to kill my grandbaby if I didn't get him the money. You don't know what's it like. No one knows what it's like. I just . . . ."

Rubbing at the tears on from her cheeks, and glancing at the two men, Tricia continued, "I had to protect my grandbaby; so, I killed my son. Once he was dead, I panicked. I didn't know what to do; so I drug his body out to the garage and waited for Mary to come home. When she got home, I had her take Ryan to a hotel for the night and I spent the rest of the night cutting up my son's body, putting him in garbage bags and then I passed out."

Leaning forward on the table between them, Gibbs fiddled with the folder as he studied the woman across from him. Then he asked, "Ms. Van Pelt, earlier you said that Perry was beating on Mary when you cam home, then started taking it out on you. Now you're saying that Mary came home after you killed him and you had her take Ryan to a hotel for the night. Which is it Ms. Van Pelt? Mary was home getting beaten or Mary came home after you killed Perry?

Glaring at the man across from her, Tricia growled, "He was beating on her when I got home. When he started in on me. she ran out of the house. She was terrified of her brother. You don't know the pain he'd caused her in the past. I don't know where she went. She, um, I don't know where she went."

Leaning back against the chair, his arms extended in front of him and his hands resting on the table, Gibbs calmly nodded, "Okay, Perry was beating up Mary when you came home. Perry started on you. Mary ran away. Ryan came home and Perry started in on your grandson then you ran into the kitchen got a knife and stabbed him to death. Do I have that right, Ms. Van Pelt?"

Glowering at the two men, Tricia spat out, "Yeah. Yeah you got it right, Agent Gibbs. Mary left with Ryan and I cut up the body."

Booth, stood up and walked over to the observation window, then leaned against the right side of it, crossed his arms in front of him. He looked at the woman on the other side of the table. "You cut up the body by yourself, Tricia? Your daughter didn't help you?"

Shaking her head, Tricia was adamant, "No way. Mary called and said they'd gone to my cousins instead of a hotel. She said she was broke. It's not news in our family that Perry and his no good father were fighters. I told her to stay there with Ryan for a few days while I figured out what to do. I didn't want her to know anything. I couldn't do anything that night. I was so drained. I cleaned up the living room and left the body in the garage." She looked up at the two men. "I left it there for a few days until the smell started to get really bad. Then I loaded up the bags into the trunk of my car and I drove to work. I parked at the back of the lot by the dumpsters so that if anyone smelled anything they would think it was coming from there. After work, I hung around the area after the NEX closed. I dumped the bags near the dumpsters. They, uhm, the bags were too heavy for me; so, I dumped them next to the dumpsters. I guess someone damn dumpster diver got nosey and looked in the bags. I didn't count on that."

Glancing at Booth, Gibbs asked, "So Mary wasn't the one to take the bags to the dumpster?"

Shaking her head, Tricia replied, "No! Absolutely not. It was me. It was all me. I stabbed Perry. I cut up his body. I took the bags to the dumpster. It was just me."

Curious, Booth asked, "Where did you stab your son, Mr. Van Pelt? In his chest? In his stomach? Because of the condition of the body, our examiners haven't been able to determine where he was stabbed. You did a good job of cutting him up. I mean, you're what five feet seven? Did you just swing the knife down and strike him in the chest or did you just kind of fight over the knife and you stabbed him in the stomach? We really need to know how you killed your son, Ms. Van Pelt."

Nodding her head, Tricia responded, "We kind of fought over the knife a little and I stuck the knife in his stomach. He bled out before I could call for help. I had to protect my grandson, Agent Booth. You just don't know what we've been through. I had to do what I had to do and I'd do it again."

Nodding his head, Booth replied, "Okay, I see."

Gibbs, turning his head and frowning at Booth, turned back to look at Tricia and stood up. "Agent Booth and I will be back in a little while."

oooooo

Looking through the window of the observation room at the woman on the other side, Gibbs glanced over at Booth. "He was stabbed in the leg with the knife."

Nodding his head, Booth responded, "Exactly."

Staring through the window at Tricia, Ziva asked, "Why lie about where he was stabbed? She has to know where he was stabbed."

Gibbs pursed his lips and nodded his head. Smiling, Booth repeated himself, "Exactly."

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_Thank you so much for the comments. We really appreciate reviews (and share them with each other). We would appreciate hearing your thoughts, no matter how brief (or lengthy)!_


	16. Chapter 16

_Thank you to everyone who has taken a moment to write a review for this collaboration between FaithInBones and me. We are enjoying exploring back story for our characters and are grateful that you are returning to see where we take them next. For those of you who "read and run," we consider faves and follows positive reviews!_

_Although we've been trying to post on Friday's, I'm away from home (and regular access to wifi) for the next couple weeks. The story is not being abandoned, we're just on a little different schedule for now. Thank you for understanding._

_We don't own Bones nor do we own NCIS, more is the pity._

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Gibbs watched the younger agent as he talked to someone on the phone. From the side of the conversation he could hear, he realized Booth was talking to someone who'd done a search on the Van Pelt home. Booth asked a few more questions, then ended the call.

Turning his look at Gibbs, Booth smiled, "Well Jethro, we now know for certain that Perry was killed in the house and his body was kept in the garage for awhile." Booth raised his hand and started ticking off the information on his fingers as he related it to Gibbs. He tapped his two index fingers together and continued, "The tools that were used to cut up his body haven't been found." Moving on to tap his index finger against his middle finger, he continued, "Since there have been two trash pick-ups since the murder, with the last one for the Van Pelt neighborhood three days ago, I think we can assumed that those are gone, unless we get someone to tell us that they did something differently than what we suspect. If they were thrown in the trash they're buried at the landfill by now. No matter what they show on those crime procedurals on television, there's no hope of finding whatever was used. None of the knives in the house have Perry's blood on them; so those were probably thrown away, too. All we have is blood evidence from the house and we have some hair from Tricia found in the garbage bags. We have two suspects who claim they killed Perry denying the other was not involved."

Leaning back against his chair, Booth shook his head and frowned, "I don't believe either of those two women killed that guy."

Shaking his head and scowling, Gibbs replied, "Yeah, I don't either."

Curious, Ziva looked between the two men and asked, "If Mary or Tricia didn't do it then the only one left is the boy. Ryan, Triscia's grandson." She looked back and forth between the two men.

Turning his gaze towards Ziva, Gibbs responded with a dismayed look on his face, "Yep, that's the only one left." He glanced over at Booth and saw his feelings mirrored in the other agent's face.

Booth nodded his head, "I'm afraid so."

Frowning, Ziva asked, "He is eight years old. Do you think he is strong enough to stab someone to death? Perry would not have just stood there and let the boy stab him. Surely he would have tried to keep the boy from striking him with a knife. Also, you suspect Tricia was the one he was beating for the money; I would suspect that she would have been keeping herself between Perry and Ryan."

Shaking his head, Booth responded, "It would have been chaos. Perry beating his sister, then his mother and Ryan jumping into the fray. Dr. Sweets could offer us some insight into the family dynamics behind all of this," he gave a sheepish grin, "but I know that young boys can certainly get a White Knight Syndrome and try to save the damsel - or in this case - damsels in distress. From what we've seen so far, it wouldn't be too far fetched." He glanced over at Gibbs and saw the other man give a nod of agreement.

Booth continued. "Someone ran into the kitchen and grabbed a knife then came back into the living room and Perry was stabbed. I'm not sure who grabbed the knife, but we can surmise that if it had been either Mary or Tricia, the wound would more than likely be above the waist. Ryan is eight and his strike zone would be lower. We know Perry was stabbed in the leg and the blade hit the femoral artery and he bled out. During the ruckus, Perry may not have realized that Ryan had the knife and if he grabbed the kid and was trying to restrain him, Ryan could have jabbed down with the knife. From the evidence Dr. Mallard and Bones have found, that scenario fits." Booth shook his head with a look of sadness on his face. "There are no winners in domestic abuse. Everybody loses and the whole family gets to play the game." He glanced over at his cousin.

Gibbs nodded his head in agreement. "That's a reasonable scenario. Given what we've seen and heard so far, my money is on Ryan. For all kinds of reasons that some of us will never understand, Tricia and Mary are doing their best to protect him. The thing is, that their protection may be misplaced." He glanced between Ziva and Booth. "If the scenario occurred the way Booth postulated, a good defense attorney could make an argument for self-defense. The boy felt that his mother and grandmother were in imminent danger. If Perry grabbed Ryan the way Booth put forth, he could have felt his own life was in danger." Gibbs got a thoughtful look on his face and stared past the other agents and out the office window.

Shifting her gaze between Booth and Gibbs, Ziva asked, "Then how do we prove this?"

Sighing, Gibbs replied, "As long as they stick to their stories, we can't. We have two people claiming they did it. We have proof that Perry was killed in the house; but nothing to point to who killed him. We can put forth all the suppositions that we want, but we won't get to the truth of the matter."

Frowning, Ziva remarked, "We could talk to Ryan."

Shaking his head, Booth replied, "Only with a child advocate present. We can't interrogate anyone as young as Ryan without a child advocate in the room."

Seeing that Ziva was disturbed at the turn of events, Booth continued, "I do plan to question the boy. I'm just telling you that it's not going to be easy. If he's been told by his mother and grandmother to keep quiet, he may do just that."

Turning her gaze to her Boss, Ziva asked, "What about Mary and Tricia?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Gibbs answered, "We'll turn this whole thing over to the DA's office in Chesapeake. It will be up to them whether they want to proceed with the case. Chances are this may be the end of it."

Ziva glanced around Booth's office. Catching sight of the picture of Parker and Christine on the corner of the desk, she responded, "Perry brought all of this upon his own head. He was killed by someone trying to protect themselves. I find it hard to work up any sympathy for him."

Shrugging his shoulders, Booth sighed, "This happens more often than I care to think about." Turning his gaze towards Gibbs, Booth tapped his fingers on his desk, "I'm going to press charges against Mary and Tricia and hold them for awhile. I plan to drive back to Chesapeake tomorrow morning to talk to Ryan. You want to come with me?"

Nodding his head, Gibbs replied, "Yeah, might as well."

ooooo

That evening, as Booth and Brennan were eating dinner, Booth looked over at the beautiful face of his daughter and sighed.

Brennan, worried about Booth's depressed mood, placed her fork down, "What's wrong Booth?"

Picking up his wine glass, Booth shrugged his shoulders, "It's the case. I told you what I think happened to Perry. It's just so messed up."

Looking at her partner, Brennan reached over and placed her hand over his, "Perry Van Pelt may have been the victim; but, clearly he fomented his own destruction."

Snorting, Booth responded, "Yeah, the son of an abuser turns into an abuser and is killed by the people he was abusing. It's a vicious cycle and it's hard to break."

Gripping his hand firmly, Brennan smiled sadly, "You and Jared broke the cycle. Neither of you have ever raised a hand to a loved one. You are the kindest person I know. Perry chose to continue in his father's steps. He didn't have to. He chose to."

"That's the subtle thing about domestic abuse, Bones. People get caught up in a cycle and often they don't know there's a way out." He sighed heavily and looked up, "It would be nice if life could be black and white. Good and bad. It would be so much easier; but, we know that's not reality." He looked at the beautiful woman sitting across from him. "We've both seen more of the bad side of life than most people see in a life time and we both have our own experiences that color the picture on both sides. The good news is that we have each other and we have our beautiful daughter." He smiled.

"And Parker, Booth." Brennan whispered. "And we have Parker. I know you're right. I want there to be just one answer. I look at how far you and Jared have come. I look at the way you grew up. The experience of Sweets and I in the foster care system. It would be nice if we could all break the cycle; but, that's not the way it works."

Staring into Brennan's bright blue eyes, Booth spoke, "I love you Bones. I'd never hurt you or Christine or Parker. You know that. Never." Then trying to lighten the mood, Booth laughed and winked at her, "Besides you'd probably kill my ass if I tried."

Smiling, Brennan replied, "Well, I wouldn't kill you; but, I would certainly make sure you saw the error of your ways."

Pulling her hand towards him, Booth leaned forward and kissed her fingers, then raising his eyes towards hers, he smiled, "I love you Bones. You keep me sane."

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_I've been traveling this week and taking care of some family stuff . . . sorry to be posting this so late on a Friday, but I finally got wifi access. Reviews are always welcome, please don't read and run . . . we would both enjoy hearing your thoughts on this fic._


	17. Chapter 17

_Thank you so much for your kind reviews. Although we are not known in the NCIS fandom, when FaithInBones and I first started discussing this story, we knew that we wanted to post to both the NCIS and Bones fandoms rather than posting as a crossover. We appreciate those of you that are following our little fic . . . we're having a lot of fun with trying to keep everyone in character while they interact with each other. We hope that you are enjoying the journey._

_Although our fingers are crossed that things might change, as of this posting, we definitely don't own NCIS or Bones._

_._

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Pulling up in front of NCIS headquarters, Booth didn't see Gibbs waiting for him. Grabbing his cell phone from where it was stowed in the console, he gave a quick call and was surprised when Agent McGee answered the phone. "Agent Gibbs' phone, Agent McGee speaking, may I help you?"

"McGee, it's Booth. Is Gibbs around?" Booth replied.

"He's up with the director, Agent Booth. He should be back shortly. Do you want to come up to our offices?" McGee asked.

"Sure." Booth answered thinking that it would be interesting to see where his cousin worked.

Entering the building lobby, he signed in with the guards at the front desk and received clearance to go up to Gibbs' floor. Booth entered the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor. Hearing someone calling to hold the elevator, Booth stuck his hand to catch the doors from closing. A young woman squeezed in with a smile of gratitude.

"Thanks!" She smiled at the man who had held the doors for her. Turning to push the button, Abby noticed that the button had already been pushed for the third floor. She looked the other passenger up and down and asked, "I'm going to that floor also, may I help you find someone there?'

Smiling, Booth nodded his head, "I'm looking for Special Agent Jethro Gibbs."

Cheerfully, Abby responded, "Oh, I can take you right to him." Sticking her hand out, she continued, "I'm Abby Sciuto, I work forensics here at NCIS. I think I saw you at the Jeffersonian when I was working with Dr. Hodgins. You're working on a case with Agent Gibbs, aren't you? You're Agent Booth with the FBI right?"

Nodding his head, Booth answered, "I am."

Trying to squeeze out more information, Abby continued, "We usually work with Agent Fornell when we work with the FBI."

Aiming his charm smile at Abby, Booth agreed, "Yes, I know."

When the elevator arrived at the third floor, Abby exited the car and waited for Booth, "If you want to follow me Agent Booth, I'll take you to Agent Gibbs' desk."

Following the young woman, Booth took in his surroundings in the open, brightly lit room. Spying Ziva and DiNozzo, Booth lifted his hand, "Hey, I'm looking for Jethro, McGee said he was with the Director. Is he back yet?"

Looking up from her computer monitor, Ziva smiled, "Agent Booth! Gibbs isn't back yet, but he should be back momentarily."

Walking over to DiNozzo's desk, Abby leaned against it and, aiming her question at Booth, asked, "Why isn't Agent Fornell working with us this time? Is he alright?"

Nodding his head, Booth replied, "As far as I know, Agent Fornell is fine. I'm working on this case because Dr. Brennan was asked to consult and we're partners. I'm sure that you'll still be working with Agent Fornell on other cases."

Her curiosity still not satisfied, Abby asked, "How long have you worked with Dr. Brennan? Dr. Mallard says she's the best anthropologist in the country."

Rubbing the top of this left hand, Booth grinned as he answered, "I'm sure he did. We've worked together for a little more than seven years."

Glancing at Ziva, Abby continued quizzing the FBI agent, "Have you met Agent Gibbs before you started working on this case?"

Folding his arms across his chest, Booth smiled, "No, I haven't. He knew my father though."

Her curiosity hitting a high, Abby asked, "Oh gosh, really? We're they in the Marines together?"

Shaking his head, Booth replied, "No. Family. Jethro is my father's cousin."

Overhearing the end of the conversation as he came down the staircase from the Director's office, Gibbs caught the stunned look on Abby's face and the amused look on Booth's. He called out "Booth, give me a minute and we can go."

Looking up and over at Gibbs, Abby opened her mouth and then closed it. Turning towards Booth, she smiled, "I have to go."

Nodding his head, Booth responded, "Nice meeting you."

Watching Abby leave, DiNozzo moved his gaze to Gibbs who walked towards his desk, "So, Agent Booth was just telling us that you're his father's cousin."

Ignoring DiNozzo, Gibbs grabbed his gun and badge from this desk. Walking back to where Booth was waiting, Gibbs smiled, "Ready to go?"

Giving a quick nod, Booth turned and walked towards the elevator, amused at the facial expressions on the younger agents faces and the way Gibbs had ignored them both. Gibbs, shook his head as he entered the elevator car behind Booth. As the doors closed, Gibbs sighed, "You do know that's going to drive them nuts, right?"

Grinning, Booth punched the lobby button, "Oh, I'm counting on it, cuz!"

Laughing, Gibbs shook his head, "You're as bad as my old man."

Staring at the elevator doors, Booth replied, "It should be interesting to see if they can research us well enough to find the connection."

Gibbs smiled, "Yeah, I'll let you know how that goes."

ooooo

On the way to Chesapeake, Gibbs turned to the younger agent, "So, have you given any thought as to how we can get Hank and my father together?"

Glancing at Gibbs and then back at the road, Booth nodded his head, "Yeah, I've thought about that a little. I think it should probably be something simple. I don't really want to wait until Christmas, but I was thinking of that as an example since Pops always has Christmas dinner with us. So, if we could find a reason to have Pops over and you brought Jackson over while he was already there. If we could come up with something like that, what do you think?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Gibbs scowled. "I'd have to think about how we could get that to work. I'm not sure I could get Dad to come to your house. I'm afraid that the minute I tell him it's at your house he'll say no. He doesn't have anything against you. It's just that he's lost or let go of all of his ties with his family and I don't think he wants to renew any of them. He didn't have much family on his mother's side of the family; then when their Dad died and Hank cut ties to him and he lost contact with that side of the family, too, I think it broke his heart. Not that he'd admit that, of course! I just don't think he wants to be reminded of happier times."

Shrugging his shoulders, Booth responded, "That's too bad. But, you are invited over for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Well, actually you're invited over anytime you want to come. It's an open invitation."

Smiling, Gibbs replied, "Thanks. I'll take you up on that. We'll talk."

Studying an eighteen wheeler weaving on the road ahead of them, Booth sighed, "I hate weavers."

Coming up on the truck, Booth got into the left hand lane and gunned the engine. Passing quickly, he moved the SUV back into the right hand lane and slowed back down to his customary four miles over the speed limit and re-engaged the cruise control. "I've had more than one close call with weaving truck drivers, now I just past them as quickly as I can."

Nodding his head, Gibbs returned the conversation back to their elders, "I could get Dad to come down for a visit and take him out to dinner. You could invite Hank out to eat and accidentally run into us at a restaurant."

Thinking about it, Booth smiled, "Well, that's pretty simple and could probably work. We'll have to work out the logistics."

Noticing Booth's yawn, Gibbs asked, "Late night?"

Slowly blowing air through his lips, Booth nodded his head, "Yeah, Christine had an upset stomach last night and cried for hours. I think she just had one of those 24-hour bugs. She seemed okay this morning."

Staring at Booth's tired demeanor, Gibbs frowned, "Yeah, I remember when Kelly was a baby. Those stomach viruses can be pretty nasty." Laughing, he continued, "From both ends! "

Booth chuckled, "That's the truth! I think she picked it up at day care. That brings its own challenges since Bones is already distrustful of day care and this didn't exactly help!"

Smiling in understanding, the older agent commiserated, "Yeah, Shannon was a stay at home mom; but, I think that a lot of the reason she decided not to go back to work after Kelly was born was because of how she felt about day care."

The two men were silent for the next few miles. Booth looked over at the older man and debated the question that had come to mind. "Did they ever find the guys that killed your wife and daughter, Jethro?"

Gibbs glanced at the younger man and then turned his eyes back to the passing scenery. In an even tone he responded, "Pedro Hernandez? Yeah, I heard that he was taken out by a gunshot to the head a few years later."

"Really?" Booth kept his eyes on the road ahead, then asked, "Sniper?"

"That's what I heard." Gibbs replied noncommitally. Turning to look out the passenger window, he repeated softly. "That's what I heard . . ." With a thoughtful expression Booth nodded and returned his gaze to the road ahead.

The two men passed the next several miles in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. "Let's continue to think about how we can get Pops and Jackson together," Booth broke the silence, "I'll talk it over with Bones. It's going to have to be really underhanded to work though. I do like your idea of the restaurant." Yawning again, Booth placed his hand over his mouth, "I guess I'm more tired than I thought."

Concerned, Gibbs noted the sign for the rest area a mile ahead and asked the other agent, "Do you want me to drive? We've still got about an hour ahead of us."

Glancing at the rest area sign and then over towards his cousin, Booth turned on the right turn signal to pull into the rest area ahead, "Yeah, I would."

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_Thanks for your faves and follows. We take those as positive reviews . . . . but written reviews are always welcome. They do help encourage us to continue the story._


	18. Chapter 17a

_Thanks to all of you who are following and reading this little story of ours. My father passed away recently, and I've been back in Michigan with my family. As a result, we have no chapter this week, but expect to post Chapter 18 next week. Thank you for any thoughts and prayers you are able to send our way. _

_One of the ways my Dad was of service within our community was with his vegetable garden. If you wandered by while he was out "visiting the vegetables", you did not leave without taking some fresh picked items with you. I offer this (from Patti Tana) for my Dad:_

* * *

**Post Huumus**

_by Patti Tana_

Scatter my ashes in my garden  
so I can be near my loves.  
Say a few honest words,  
sing a gentle song,  
join hands in a circle of flesh.  
Please tell some stories  
about me making you laugh.  
I love to make you laugh.

When I've had time to settle  
and green gathers into buds,  
remember I love blossoms  
bursting in spring.  
As the season ripens  
remember my persistent passion.

And if you come in my garden  
on an August afternoon,  
pluck a bright red globe,  
let juice run down your chin  
and the seeds stick to your cheek.

When I'm dead I want folks to smile  
and say, "That John, he sure is  
some tomato!"

from _**Ask the Dreamer Where Night Begins: Poems & Postscripts**_ (1986); reprinted in  
_**When I Am an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple**_ (Papier-Mache Press, 1987) Ed. Sandra Martz  
and _**Make Your Way Across This Bridge: New & Selected Writings**_ (2003)

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_We plan on having the next Chapter posted next week. Thank you for your patience._


	19. Chapter 19

_Thank you so much to everyone who PM'd, sent notes, etc. on the loss of my Dad. I thank you for reaching out to offer comfort to someone that you know only through a computer screen._

_Thanks, too, for all of the encouraging reviews, favorites, and follows to our little journey into the world of Gibbs and Booth . . . NCIS and Bones. We appreciate that you are still reading our story and are willing to take a moment to leave us a review._

_We don't own Bones or NCIS, not even a smidgen._

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Loosening the grip he hadn't realized he'd had on the armrest, Booth turned to Gibbs as they pulled into the parking lot for the Chesapeake Police Station. "My God," he asked, "Where in the hell did you learn to drive?"

Smirking as he pulled into a parking place, Gibbs glanced over at the incredulous face of the man in the passenger seat. "Too fast for you, Booth?"

Rolling his eyes, Booth watched as Gibbs turned off the ignition and asked, "Why the hell are you not drowning in a flood of speeding tickets?"

Reaching down and pulling his badge off his belt, Gibbs held it in front of Booth's face.

Laughing, Booth pushed the badge back towards Gibbs and reached out his hand, palm up. "Yeah, I've done that myself. Still, you are never driving my vehicle again." Then even more emphatically, "Ever."

Placing the keys in his cousin's outstretched hand, Gibbs chuckled, "You were too tired to drive. You said so yourself."

Guffawing, Booth opened the truck door, "Well, if I was sleepy before I am certainly wide awake now! The next time Bones says I have a lead foot, I'm going to suggest that she take a ride with you – it would serve you both right!"

Gibbs exited the truck and walked towards the main entrance. Turning to the man walking next to him, he said, "If that shook you up, you sure don't want to go for a ride with Ziva!"

Booth glanced at the cell phone in his hand, "Tricia's cousin said he'd bring Ryan here. Mr. Cutter said that he would arrange for a child advocate to meet us here."

Shrugging his shoulders, Gibbs responded, "It's not like we didn't expect that."

Approaching the door, Booth stopped, "Yup. So, do you want to take the lead or do you want me to?"

Thinking it over, Gibbs shrugged his shoulders, "You go ahead and I'll jump in if I need to."

ooooo

Sitting in the interrogation room, Booth and Gibbs sat across a table from Ryan Van Pelt, his grandmother's cousin, Harmon Cutter and the Child Advocate, Myrna Winters.

Leaning on his folded arms on the table, Booth smiled at Ryan, "Do you remember me, Ryan?"

Nodding his head, the boy smiled, "Sure you're FBI and" pointing to Gibbs, "he's NCIS."

Nodding his head, Booth agreed, "That's right. Agent Gibbs and I would like to talk to you about your Uncle Perry. Is that alright?"

Solemnly, Ryan nodded his head.

Glancing at the child advocate and then back to the boy, Booth asked, "Do you know where your mother and grandmother are?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Ryan shook his head and looked down at his folded hands.

Looking intently at the boy, Booth explained, "Your mother and grandmother are in Washington D.C. They came to me and told me what happened to your Uncle Perry."

Jerking his head up, Ryan cried out, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt him. It was an accident." Placing his hands over his face, Ryan started to weep, "It was an accident."

Sighing, Booth glanced at Harmon Cutter, "Do you know what happened?"

Harmon, rubbing Ryan's shoulder, responded, "No, not really. Tricia said she wanted me to stay out of it. She just wanted me to watch after Ryan."

Watching Ryan struggle to control his crying, Gibbs asked, "Would you like to tell us what happened Ryan, so we can see your side of the story?"

Hicupping, Ryan pulled up the hem of his t-shirt and wiped his nose. Myrna, reached into her purse, found a packet of Kleenex and handed it to Ryan. Blowing his nose and then putting the Kleenex on the table, the young man stared at Gibbs, "Am I in trouble?"

Shaking his head, Gibbs replied, "Why don't you tell us what happened?"

Nodding his head, the boy picked up the tissue and blew his nose again, "I came home and Uncle Perry was beating my Grandma. He was really angry and he was shouting at her and hurting her real bad. She was crying and asking him to stop and he wouldn't. When he saw me, he grabbed me and hit me in the chest. Grandma screamed and tried to make him stop; but he just laughed and said he needed the money and if this is what it took to get it, then this is what it took."

"Grandma jumped on him and he threw me across the room. Then he started beating Grandma again and threatened to break her arm. I got really scared and I didn't know what to do, but I knew that I had to get him to stop. So I ran into the kitchen and got a knife. I thought that he would leave us alone if he saw me with the knife; but he just got madder. It was really crazy!" The young boy looked up at the two men. "He threw Grandma on the ground and then he jumped at me. I had the knife . . . he . . . it was an accident! The knife went into his leg when he jumped at me. I didn't mean to cut him; but the knife was sticking in his leg and he started screaming at me and he pulled the knife out and then he fell down and there was lots of blood and he started to cry. He was screaming for me to help him. I wanted to help him but then he stopped crying and he just lay there and Grandma said he went to sleep and we couldn't help him anymore." Ryan scrubbed his hands over his face.

Watching closely as the young man's breathing returned to normal, Booth asked, "Where was your mother while all this was going on, Ryan?"

Wiping his hand across his face, Ryan looked down, "Uncle Perry had hit her really hard and she was asleep in her room. Grandma was scared that Mom might need to go to the hospital; but she woke up. She had a really bad bump on the back of her head and her eye was kind of bruised and swelling. Mom said that Uncle Perry knocked her down and she hit the floor too hard. She was sorry she couldn't protect me from him. It wasn't her fault. She was sleeping. Am I in trouble?"

Exhaling deeply, Booth shook his head, "I don't think so Ryan. I need to talk to someone else about it; but I really don't think so."

Nodding his head, Ryan asked, "Why was Uncle Perry so mean?"

Glancing at Booth and then the young boy, Gibbs responded, "He was afraid of some very bad men, Ryan. He wanted your Grandma to help him; but she couldn't and he just took his fear out on his family. Do you understand?"

Nodding his head, Ryan looked at Gibbs, "Mom said that Uncle Perry hung out with bad people and Uncle Perry shouldn't have done that."

Nodding his head, Gibbs smiled sadly, "Your mother was right. He should have stayed away from the bad people."

Clearing his throat, Ryan asked, "Can I see my Mom and my Grandma now?"

Looking over at the boy's distant cousin, Booth responded, "Let us talk to a few people and we'll call you tomorrow." Turning his gaze back towards Ryan, Booth smiled, "We'll try to get you to see them as soon as possible."

Wiping his nose, Ryan responded, "It's my birthday next week. Mom said we might go to Virginia Beach to play in the ocean. We might even get to do some crabbing. This is a good time of year to go crabbing, y'know?"

Smiling, Booth nodded his head, "Yes, it is Ryan, yes it is. That sounds like a real nice way to spend your birthday."

ooooo

Leaving the police station, Booth walked over to his truck and leaned against it. Staring at the ground and letting out a heavy breath, Booth shook his head. He looked up as Gibbs walked over and sighed, "That could have been me, you know."

Nodding his head, Gibbs replied, "Yeah, I know." Clapping the other man on the back of his shoulder, he said, "I know, Seeley. I know. I wish . . ."

Straightening up, Booth looked at the other man in the eye, " Jethro, it's okay. Really. It's not anyone's fault. It's just that every once in awhile a case just hits a bit close to home." Nodding at his cousin, he took a deep breath. "Okay, let's go. I'll talk to Caroline Julian, she's the prosecutor with the U.S. Attorney's office. I'll have her talk to the DA in Chesapeake."

Nodding his head, Gibbs remarked, "I know who she is. She's fair."

Smiling and nodding his head, Booth responded, "Yeah, she is."

Grinning, Gibbs held his hand out, palm up, "Want me to drive home?"

Booth shook his head at this cousin, "Really? You really think I'd let you drive? You must be crazy as hell."

ooooo

Staring at the ribs of the boat Gibbs gently swirled the glass of scotch in his hand. As he took a sip of the drink he heard the door to the basement open. He looked up to see Tobias Fornell at the head of the stairs.

Slowly walking down the stairs,Fornell smiled at the man below, "Are you ever going to tell me how you get these damn boats out of here?"

Gibbs shrugged as he answered, "Nope."

Shaking his head, Fornell remarked, "Maybe you can put it in your will. You can't take a secret like that with you to your grave. It isn't right."

Gibbs smiled at the man who had become his friend over the years, "Tell you what, I'll leave the secret for Abby. It will be up to her if she wants to share it with you."

Laughing, Fornell shook his head, "Okay, I'm going to outlive you just so I can get the answer."

Nodding his head, Gibbs smiled turned to a frown, "What brings you here?"

Rummaging through the jelly jars on the Gibbs' workbench, the other man dumped some finishing nails out of a relatively clean jar, gave it a quick wipe with his fingers and poured some scotch. Sipping the drink, he sat down on a stool and studied his husband-in-law. "So, the boy killed his uncle."

Sighing, Gibbs responded, "Yeah." Shaking his head, he continued, "Booth took this case pretty hard. It hit too close to home for him."

Fornell looked at the drink in his hand, "Because he has a daughter. Yeah, that makes it rough."

Looking at Fornell, Gibbs responded, "Yeah, Christine." Gibbs contemplated the glass in his hand before he went on. "I guess most families have a member somewhere on their family tree that is just a bastard. I know we had one. The guy beat his wife and kids unmercifully. I tried to help the situation and for awhile he was better. He walked the straight and narrow. But I got transferred overseas and I lost touch. I found out later that the jerk got worse. A hell of a lot worse. He terrorized his family. I just wish that I could have done something to stop it; but it was out of my hands."

Curious, Fornell asked, "So what happened to this family member?"

Staring at his friend, Gibbs responded, "Nothing. Not for quite awhile. The mother left and then the jerk's father found out what was going on and took the kids away from him. Two boys. Those boys had to put up with a lot of crap, a lot of pain before they were rescued. It makes me sick to think about it."

Finishing his drink, Fornell asked, "So what happened to the jerk's kids?"

Smiling, Gibbs answered, "They turned out okay. I think it was a rough road for both of them, but they're doing okay now. They both have families and they seem to have broken the cycle."

Placing his empty glass on the workbench, the FBI Agent exclaimed, "Thank God."

Nodding his head, Gibbs replied, "Yeah. The oldest boy really makes me proud. He's really done a lot with his life. I wish I'd had a son like that. Kelly would have loved having a brother like him."

Smiling, Fornell commented, "Yeah, Booth is a pretty nice guy."

Laughing, Gibbs finished his drink, "You're a nosey son-of-a-bitch, you know that?"

Laughing, Fornell responded, "That's what our ex-wife keep tells me."

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So, we have a solution to the case. But FaithInBones and I started this story because we were curious about the relationship between Jackson Gibbs and Hank Booth . . . We'll be back with the rest of the story.

We really would like you to let us know what you think of our story. We love reviews (they give us the incentive to keep posting chapters).


	20. Chapter 20

_We're having a lot of fun with this blending of the NCIS and Bones characters, bringing them together through the magic of fan fiction. We appreciate everyone that is reading (and commenting on) our little fic in BOTH fandoms! FaithInBones and I thank the readers in both fandoms. Thank you!_

_Surprise, we own neither NCIS nor Bones._

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Booth laughed as his daughter reached out and grabbed hold of the tapioca laden spoon just as he got it up to her mouth. Realizing that he was in a losing battle of trying to keep either of them clean, he heard a knock at the front door. Calling out for Brennan and getting no response, Booth made sure that Christine was secure in her high chair then went to open the front door. He was surprised to find his cousin standing on the doorstep.

Smiling, Booth stepped back, "Jethro! Come on in. Christine and I are having a contest to see who can wear the most food!"

Laughing, Gibbs walked into the house and closed the door behind him. Following Booth into the kitchen, he watched as the younger man picked up a wash cloth and wiped the little girl's face and hands. Booth picked up a spoon and as he tried to get Christine to eat some of the tapioca, glanced over at the other man. "Take a seat, I just want to try and get a little of this pudding into her." Looking back to his daughter, he scooped some pudding from the bowl and moved towards the distracted child.

Keeping her eyes on the strange man who had walked into the kitchen, Christine opened her mouth for the spoonful of food. Booth laughed, "Oh, I see how it is, Missy! Company manners, eh?"

Gibbs chuckled as he took a seat at the kitchen island. Placing a cardboard tube on the countertop, he noted, "Maybe she's just hungry."

Looking over at Gibbs and then back at the toddler, Booth explained, "I think it's her grandfather's feeding her snacks before dinner. I keep telling him that Bones has a schedule for Christine; but he likes to have a bowl of ice cream in the afternoon and he shares it with Christine; it kills her appetite."

Returning the little girls' intent gaze, Gibbs watched as she grabbed at the tapioca filled spoon, and commented, "Sounds like you need a new babysitter."

Shrugging his shoulders, Booth sighed, "Oh, let's not even go down that road! You don't know what you're saying. Besides, Max is convenient for those times when we get called out on cases at odd hours and we need someone to watch her. Max is available most of the time; so, we have to go with that. Unfortunately, he likes to spoil her and Bones is getting a little anxious about it."

Observing the diligent father manage to get his daughter to actually eat the pudding, Gibbs spoke, "I've been doing some research about the accident that killed Hank and Jackson's father. I found out something very interesting. You interested?"

Looking over at Gibbs, Booth responded, "Sure, what did you find?"

Picking up the tube, the older man pulled off the metal cap at one end of the tube and slid out some papers. Unrolling a chart and some loose papers, he replied, "This is a chart of the upper Chesapeake Bay that was issued for the season of the accident. The USGS used to publish new charts each year and sailors and boaters were supposed to check advisories from the Coast Guard and USGS for any updates. Most sailors would make a set of charts last for a couple of seasons although that wasn't suggested. Of course, now updates can be found online but in those days, up-to-date information wasn't as easily accessed; although most marinas would post advisories on a bulletin board in a marina store or near the fuel pumps. Anyway, I was able to obtain this set of charts that shows underwater wrecks and obstructions, permanent buoys and shipping lane. It was issued in March of the year the accident occurred."

Seeing that he had Booth's undivided attention, Gibbs continued, "I also managed to get a copy of the accident report that was filed with the State of Maryland. Every boating accident has to be reported by Federal law. I used that to find out when and where the accident happened. Comparing the charts they would have had available to use and the reports on file for that season showed something very interesting."

Leaning away from his daughter, Booth frowned, "What did you find?"

Nodding his head, Gibbs spread the chart on the countertop, "There was a wreck of a sailboat earlier in the week. It wouldn't have been listed on the charts that Joseph Booth used. Of course today's sailors could just check the website for information and updates. I think Jackson was following the correct course and unknown to him, he ran right over the underwater wreck. The bottom of their boat must have hit part of the wreck. From the story that Hank told you, it might have been the mast of the boat that had gone down. I think that's what holed their boat."

Surprised, Booth shook his head, "Wow. That would explain the accident. So your father probably wasn't to blame for the accident. No one was responsible, just the luck of the draw that they were in the area that day."

Nodding his head, Gibbs studied the map, "What do you want to do with this info? Do you think it would do any good to show it to Hank?"

Staring at his daughter, Booth sighed, "Pops is a fair man, Jethro. If his brother wasn't responsible for the wreck then I think he'd like to know that. Do you think I could borrow the charts and show them to him?"

Rolling the chart and report and sliding them back into the tube, Gibbs turned towards his cousin, "Yeah, I think that would be a good idea."

Brennan, entered the room carrying a laundry basket filled with clean, folded clothes, placed the basket down on the table and smiled, "It's nice to see you again, Agent Gibbs."

Smiling, Gibbs responded, "Since we're related through Booth, how about calling me Jethro or Gibbs. Your choice."

Nodding her head, Brennan replied, "Yes, of course. I'm called Temperance by my family, although I also answer to Bren or Brennan."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows and looked sideways at Booth as he asked, "And Bones?"

Glancing at Booth then back at the older man, Brennan smiled, "Only Booth and his son Parker are allowed to call me that."

Nodding his head he picked up the chart tube and said, "I was just telling Booth that I may have found out why the accident occurred that killed Hank and Jackson's father."

Curious, Brennan responded, "Was it an underwater obstruction?"

His brow wrinkling, Gibbs answered, "Why yes, how did you know?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Brennan explained, "What else could it have been?"

Laughing Booth stared at Gibbs' speechlessness, "Bones is a genius, Jethro. You'll get used to it."

Smiling Gibbs laughed, "I see I'll have to."

ooooo

After giving Christine a much needed bath and putting her into her crib, Brennan joined Booth in their bedroom. She found him lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She walked over to the chair near the closet, sat down and removed her boots. After slipping the boots into the closet, she walked over to the dresser and retrieved a pair of pajamas and carried them towards the bathroom.

Booth followed her with her eyes as she got ready for bed. Clearing his throat he said, "I think I'm going to take tomorrow off work and go see Pops. I'd like to talk to him about the new information that Jethro found about the boating accident."

Stopping, Brennan watched the conflicted look on his face, "What's wrong, Booth? You seem to be worried about something. Are you concerned that Hank will be upset that you and Jethro looked into this?"

Pushing up onto his elbows, Booth nodded his head, "You know Pops is 85 years old. Do you think it's a mistake to interfere in his feud with his brother now? I mean, I don't want to do anything to upset him. He's happy and even though Jethro would like to get them together I'm starting to worry that if this goes poorly and Jackson refuses to have anything to do with Pops after all of these years, that it will break Pop's heart. I . . . I just don't want to make him unhappy when he only has a few years left. I just want to do the right thing."

Walking over to the bed, Brennan sat down and stretched out her arm. Gently rubbing his shoulder, she responded softly, "Booth, I'm not really the one to talk to about things like this. Look how long I went before I talked to my own father and brother. But you know Hank. You'll know the right thing to do."

Chuckling, Booth shook his head, "I'm no expert in relationships either. I didn't talk to my old man for over twenty years before he died. I haven't talked to my mother for over twenty four years and then she shows up in my life and I give her away at her wedding. I just want to do the right thing."

Pulling her legs up onto the bed and sliding down next to him, she rolled over on her side. Moving her hand to caress his chest, she said, "I've heard you and Hank talk about making difficult decisions and although I'm not sure what good it does, I think that Hank would suggest that you pray about what you're thinking of doing and how you should say it. It seems to work for you most of the time."

Snorting, Booth turned to look at the woman lying next to him, "Bones!" He shook his head. "I. . . Wow. I didn't expect to hear that from you!" He watched as she gave a slight smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

"I can be surprising." She responded.

"Now there's an understatement." He laughed.

Sighing, Brennan looked at the man she loved, "Our families have spent so much of our lives avoiding each other and look at the pain that has caused so many people. We know that life is short and it can turn on a dime. We see that every day in the cases that we work. Heck, we see the evidence of that just watching the news." She looked into his eyes and gave a small smile as he reached over and wiped a tear from her cheek. "You hated Jethro for a long time before you even met him and then discovered that what you thought you knew about him wasn't even true. You actually like him and I know you're happy that he's in your life. Wouldn't it be nice if Hank had that opportunity with Jackson, Booth? It might fail; but, at least you will have given him the option."

Swallowing, Booth pulled her into his arms, "Hey, when did you get to be such an expert on this kind of thing?"

Smiling into his chest, she snuggled her body up against his, winding her arms around to slide up his back. She lifted her face to his and looked deep into his eyes, then slipped her eyes closed as he bent his head down toward hers.

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_Although we consider favorites and follows as positive comments, we always welcome (and are encouraged to write more) by written reviews._


	21. Chapter 21

_We appreciate the reviews, favorites, and follows that we are receiving (in both the NCIS fandom and the Bones fandom) for this story. With the busy lives that each of us live, it gives us warm fuzzies to know that after reading, you were willing to take the time to share your thoughts! Thank you for that._

_Standard disclaimer applies: We don't own either show. We don't own Gibbs or Booth or any of the other characters with whom you may be familiar and who we have mentioned in our little fic. But the story is ours (and we're having fun writing it, we hope you're having fun reading it._

_Hank Booth makes an appearance in this "episode" . . . Jackson Gibbs will appear soon! Promise!_

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Glancing at the caller ID as he grabbed for the ringing phone, Gibbs knocked against the empty bottle from the evening before. Hitting the on button and putting the phone up to his ear, he rolled onto his back then raised his left arm over his head to shield his eyes from the light streaming through the front window. "Gibbs." He heard the morning as his voice broke with its first use of the day.

"Hey, Jethro! It's Booth. Sorry didn't mean to wake you! Are you sleeping in this morning, Marine? Keep this up and next thing you know people will be calling you a WIMP." Booth chided his cousin.

Gibbs gave a low chuckle and in one fluid movement tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he rolled over to grab his wristwatch in the disarray on the table in front of the couch. "Yeah, Grunt. I was up past four balls last night writing your reports for the case. Don't be giving me any grief this morning!"

Giving an answering laugh, Booth continued, "I just wanted to let you know that I'm headed up to see Hank. Bones and I talked after you left last night and I decided that it was foolish to put this off. I'd only find more excuses to let it slide. I have the charts with me and a copy of the advisory that was issued after the sailboat went down."

Swinging his feet to the floor and rubbing his freehand through his hair. Gibbs pushed himself to his feet as he asked, "How do you think he'll react?"Padding barefoot into the kitchen to push the button on the coffee maker, he stretching his shoulders back and cracked his neck from side to side. "Any idea?"

"He's a good man, Gibbs. I think that he has some regrets over this grudge, but we'll see." Booth checked the rear view and side mirrors in preparation for changing lanes. "Truth be told, I'm guessing it will take him a little time to process the information, but that he'll want to try to heal the relationship. Are you going to talk to Jackson about it?"

Pursing his lips and blowing his breath out, Gibbs shook his head. "I have to think about how best to handle that. Give me a call after you talk to Hank and we'll see what our next move should be, eh?"

"That's an alpha mike foxtrot to you, Gibbs! As you were, jarhead! You can go back to checking your eyelids for light leaks!" Booth reached to disconnect the call on his Bluetooth, and laughed as he caught Gibbs' responding "Oorah!"

ooooo

Finding his grandfather in the games room, Booth walked over to where Hank was sitting and smiled, "Hey Pops. I thought I'd come by and see how you're doing."

Hank looked up from his dominoes with a look of concern, "Seeley? What are you doing here? It's not the weekend, are Tempe and Christine okay?"

Patting his grandfather's shoulder, Booth smiled, "Pops! Don't worry! Everyone's fine. I just decided that I wanted to come and visit you that's all."

Still worried, Hank nodded his head. Turning his head and giving a half wave to the other men at the table, he said, "Sorry, boys. You're going to have to finish without me! I'm going to have a visit with my grandson."

Shaking off the helping hand that Booth offered, Hank stood with a little effort, unhooked his cane from the back of the chair and used it to point towards the doorway. "Why don't we go to my room for a while."

Nodding his head, Booth smiled, "Actually, I thought maybe we'd go out to lunch. My treat if you're up to it."

Giving his grandson a puzzled look, Hank shook his head. "If I'm up to it? Are you sure Tempe and Christine are okay, Seeley? He acknowledged the nod of affirmation from his grandson. "Let me just grab a jacket and we can head over to that diner down the road that you like."

As he followed his grandfather down the hall, Booth studied the man walking ahead of him and was once again struck by how frail the man who'd raised him was getting. Biting his lower lip, he reigned in his emotions.

Hank walked over to the closet and grabbed his jacket off the hook inside the door. Turning he noted that his grandson had taken a seat on the small couch in the sitting area of his room. Hank walked across the room and sat in the wing back chair across from his grandson.

"Hey Pops, do you remember me telling you I had a case I was going to work on with Jethro Gibbs?"

Frowning, Hank replied, "Of course I do. I'm not senile yet. Did you talk to him about your father? Did you find out if your father was lying to you about why Jethro went overseas?"

Leaning back against the couch, Booth sighed, "Yeah, I talked to him. It turns out my old man was a liar as well as a mean drunk. Jethro was sent to South Korea because the Marines needed him there. He didn't ask for the transfer. All these years I hated Jethro and now I find out that the guy isn't what I thought he was, afterall. He's not the man Dad led me to believe ." Booth shook his head. "You know Pops it's time like this that I find it really hard to practice turning the other cheek. It's just that sometimes it seems like that sorry bastard did everything he could to destroy my childhood. I know he was an alcoholic and that alcoholism is a disease. But sometimes that just seems like one more excuse to not hold him responsible for his actions. For the things he did. The things he said."

Hank looked at the sad eyes of the young man sitting across from him. "Seeley . . . "

Booth leaned forward on the couch, staring down at his hands. "I know Pops. I know. I'm sorry if it hurts you when I talk about him like this. I don't mean to hurt you. You know that, right?" He looked up at his grandfather.

"I know, Seeley. I know." Hank glanced down at the table between them, then back up at his grandson. "I wish things could have been different."

"That's just it, Pops. Jethro told me he got Dad to some A.A. meetings. I guess that was the time when things were a little better at home, before Mom left, before Jethro was transferred overseas. You know, just from my experience in G.A. I know that Dad never did the twelve steps, well not all of them anyway. At least he never did them with me! Pops, I know he was your son and you feel responsible for some of this but, you know and I know that Dad's alcoholism was not your fault anymore than my gambling addiction is anyone's fault. It's just a fact."

He looked up at the older man sitting across from him. "Some days this reality is just a little more challenging to deal with than other times. After talking with Jethro I find out that I let Dad influence how I felt about this extended family that I missed out on." Booth glanced up and gave a smile to the older man. "I'm grateful for you and Jared, and, of course, there's Bones and Christine, and Parker, of course. It makes me so mad. And it makes me sad, Pops. Sad that he was such a pitiful man and that he was so scared that he had to ruin the lives of everyone around him. Sad for the opportunities we missed. All of us."

Sighing, Hank reached across and patted his grandson's knee, "Son, I'm sorry you had a father like that; but, we can't undo the past. We have to live with the hand we were dealt. I'm glad you straightened out that thing with Jethro. You're right, you don't have much family left and Jethro has even less. As far as I know, besides his father, we're all he has left too. After Shannon and Kelly were murdered I tried to keep track of him even though Jackson and I weren't talking to each other. I don't know if you know that I wrote to him at his different duty stations. Hhe wrote back. But somewhere we dropped the ball. I should have made an effort to get to know him better than I did."

He gave a derisive laugh, "But, our lives get busy, don't they? We take people for granted, we think that we have time to say things. To catch up." Hank shook his head as he looked across at the young man sitting on the couch. Booth nodded with a sad smile on his face."You think we would learn, wouldn't you? We don't though. We get better for awhile but then our lives get busy and we we make assumptions that their lives are busy, too. That's what happened with me and Jethro. I got distracted and he had a busy life. I just never wanted to intrude into his life. I can see now that maybe I made a mistake."

The two men sat quietly for awhile, each lost in their own thoughts. Hank looked over at his grandson, "AfterShannon and Kelly Jethro just seemed to want to shut himself away from what little family he had left and I sure didn't want to force him to keep in contact with me. I should have though. I realize now that I wasn't fair to him. I knew he was grieving and I should have kept writing to him to remind him that he had more than his father; but, well . . ."

Seeing the sadness on his grandfather's face, Booth shook his head, "I guess we've all made mistakes, Pop; but, I think we can finally fix some of them. I know I've started to. I worked a case with Jethro and I really liked doing it. He's smart and he's a good investigator. Bones likes him and I think we're going to try to stay in touch. Bones thinks Christine could use an older relative as a role model. She has her Uncle Russ and Uncle Jared," Booth smiled at the warmth that came over him when he spoke of his family. "And of course there's you and Max. Temperance had this really long anthropological reason; but, what it boiled down to is we don't have very many relatives and Bones doesn't want us lose contact with any of them."

Clearing his throat, Booth stared at his grandfather, "Any of them Pops."

Puzzled, Hank responded, "Okay?"

Holding up the cylinder he had brought with him, Booth opened one end and then pulled out the charts it held. "It's like this, Pops. I want to talk to you about the boat wreck that killed your father."

Irritated, Hank held up his hands, "Son, I don't want to talk about that anymore. It doesn't change anything. My father is still dead and hashing it over and over is just painful to me."

Tapping the chart against his knee, Booth frowned, "Pops, what I want to talk to you about isn't a rehash. I have some new information about that wreck and I think you need to know about it."

Staring at the chart in Booth's hand, Hank asked, "What new information?"

Seeing his grandfather appeared willing to listen, Booth opened the chart. "This is a chart of the upper Chesapeake Bay around the time of the accident. It would have been like the one your father had on his boat." Pointing to a small red x on the chart, Booth continued, "This is where your wreck happened. You can see that the chart shows that it's open water and should have allowed for smooth sailing."

Putting on his glasses, Hank stared at the chart and the small x. Shrugging his shoulders, Hank asked, "And?"

Nodding his head, Booth pulled a second chart from underneath and laid it on top. "Now this chart came out a year after your accident. If you look where the little red x is you'll see that it shows an underwater obstruction. A sail boat sank in that spot a week earlier. A week before you and Jackson and your Dad went out on the bay. Given the depth of the water and the size of the boat that went down, the sailboat's mast would have been just below the water. When Jackson drove the boat over that spot, the bottom of your boat was probably holed by the mast. In all likelihood, that would have been what caused the wreck and ultimately the death of your father. Jackson didn't do anything wrong. It was an accident Pops. The whole thing was an accident."

Swallowing, Hank stared at the chart and blew air through his partially closed lips. Standing, he walked over to the bathroom, entered the room and closed the door behind him. Booth, watching his grandfather struggle with his emotions until the door was safely shut behind him, rolled up the charts and put them back in the cylinder. Sighing, Booth leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to control his own emotions.

After awhile, Hank came back out of the bathroom and sat back down on his couch. "Son, I'm glad you showed this to me. I've been a fool. All this time, I blamed Jackson for something that he wasn't responsible for. I just . . . I don't know what to do with this though. I'm pretty sure that Jackson won't talk to me even if I try. We've been at war with each other too long, almost seventy years. That's a lot of anger to overcome, Shrimp."

Swallowing, Booth leaned forward, "You know, Pops, I've hated Jethro since I was nine years old. I've talked with my sponsor about it. I've done the steps. There have been times when I think it's better, then something happens and it all comes back. That's thirty three years of hate; but now . . . because of the case I worked on with him, I talked to him and I found out the truth. And now . . . well now he's part of my family again. I think if I can overcome my hatred for Jethro then Jackson might do that too."

Booth looked his grandfather in the eye. "You know what my sponsor said to me when I talked to him about it, Pops?" Watching his grandfather shake his head, Booth continued. "He told me to pray about it. But more than that, was that even Bones told me to pray about it!" Booth gave a low chuckle and shook his head at the look of surprise that passed over his grandfather's face. "I know! And you know Pops, even if Jackson doesn't forgive you, at least you will have the satisfaction of knowing that you tried. Wouldn't you like to at least try to bury the hatchet?" He saw Hank shrug his shoulders, but still refuse to meet his grandson's eyes. "You think about it. Give it some thought. If you decide that you want to try and make peace with Jackson, let me know. Jethro and I have talked it over and we've decided that it has to be up to you. You have to feel comfortable with how we move forward from here. You have to be the one to decide if we even move forward. But, if you're game we'll try to help you and Jackson make up. It's up to you though. We won't force the issue. It's your decision."

Patting his grandson's knee, Hank replied, "Let me think it over Shrimp. I'll let you know what I decide in a few days."

Placing his hand over Hank's, Booth gave a light squeeze. "Sure thing Pops. I'm in touch with Jethro and we'll do whatever you want. You just let me know what you want to do." He rolled up the charts and slipped them back into the cardboard tube. "As long as you don't mind, I'll be talking with Jethro about how this went today." Seeing his grandfather give a slight nod, he continued, "Now, how about you grab your jacket and we head over and get some lunch at that diner down the street? I'll even share my French Fries with you if you want some!"

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_Definitions of military slang __ (i.e., "WIMP, Grunt, Oorah, alpha mike foxtrot, four balls, etc.)_ used in the opening conversation between Booth and Gibbs), can be found here en . wiktionary wiki / Appendix : Glossary _ of _ military _ slang (remove spaces). Both of us grew up with fathers who had served in the military . . . some of that language had to make it into our story eventually!  


_If you have enjoyed this story, more of my stories may be found by clicking on "penandra" at the top of this page. Also, don't miss the extensive library of FaithInBones (she is a VERY PROLIFIC writer, and loves getting prompts from readers for story ideas). Her stories are on her profile page and may be found at fanfiction u / 3100408 / FaithinBones (as usual, remove all extraneous spaces before entering this address in the browser). Fan Fiction dot net scrubs all email or URLs from being posted (even their own!).  
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___Reviews (and comments) are welcome. They encourage us to continue with our little story._


	22. Chapter 22

_We've borrowed the cast of NCIS and Bones and are having our way with them . . . we hope you are enjoying our little foray even though we own neither show nor cast._

_Although we haven't used titles for the chapters we've been posting, the one that came to mind as I was prepping this one to publish was, "...and the plot thickens!" heh! heh! heh!_

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Trying to concentrate on the report in front of him, Gibbs felt his "spidey-sense" go on alert. Glancing up, he found Tony and Ziva looking at him intently. McGee's focus seemed to be Tony; but then that wasn't so unusual.

Scowling at the younger agents, Gibbs leaned back from his desk, crossed his hands and slid them behind his head to stretch and asked, "What?"

Smiling, Ziva replied, "How is your cousin, Agent Booth doing? Has he spoken to your Uncle recently?"

Gibbs gave her a questioning look as he cocked his head to the side "I really wouldn't know, Agent David. Is there anything else?"

Glancing across the aisle at Tony, Ziva looked back to her boss and replied, "No I believe that is what we wanted to know."

Shaking his head, Gibbs frowned, "You know, if you have time to waste on my personal life, I can definitely find something for you to do."

Tony and McGee turned their attention back to their computer monitors and the reports that needed to be completed with mumbled "Yes, Boss." And "No, Boss." However, Ziva, still curious, asked, "Has Agent Booth heard about the fate of the Van Pelts yet?"

Nodding his head, Gibbs answered, "Yeah. We heard back from the Chesapeake D. . They decided to cut a plea bargain with Mary and Tricia Van Pelt. The women will plead guilty to improper disposal of a body and obstruction of justice and in return they'll be given probation. The D.A. agreed to accept that Perry Van Pelt's death was an accident so that part of the case is closed. Even if the D.A. wanted to make a case, he wouldn't be able to carry it very far. Ryan is really too young to be tried for anything and the shrinks that examined him, and the social worker that's been interacting with the family agreed that it would be detrimental to remove him from the home. Especially now that Perry is no longer part of the family. Part of the deal for all of them is therapy."

Gibbs took a deep breath, and as his shoulders relaxed, he looked directly at Ziva. "It's the best that could have happened in this case. Maybe they can break the cycle of violence in that family. Hopefully something good can come out of this whole mess. The victim in this whole thing was Ryan Van Pelt. It's a sad way to get the help, but maybe this will be what can turn all of them around."

Shaking his head, Tony replied, "Hopefully with his uncle out of the picture the boy will have a chance to have a normal childhood from here on out."

Grimacing, the older agent gave a sigh and replied, "Yeah. Whatever normal means."

ooooo

Gibbs found Booth sitting at a table toward the back of the diner. As he raised his hand and gave a quick head nod to acknowledge the younger man, he noticed that his cousin had the tube from the charts on the table.

Sitting down, the older agent smiled. "So, Booth, you met with Hank? How did that go?"

Picking up the tube and handing it across the table, Booth responded, "It was an interesting conversation!" He chuckled. "Let's just say he was a tad resistant at first, but as we talked and I showed him the information you'd dug up, he seemed to come around to understanding that his father's death was an accident. I know he needs some time to really think this through, or," the agent chortled, "as he says to 'cogitate' on the new information he's been given."

Gibbs laughed in response to the comment as Booth continued. "I think that he's ready to bury the hatchet with your Dad. I think he's just a little unsure of how Jackson is going to respond. It makes sense really. They've had this on-going feud for so many years and while he won't hesitate to tell others what they need to do differently in their lives, like most of us, he's always hesitant to change his ways." Booth shook his head. "Why is it always easier to see that in others than in ourselves, eh?"

Gibbs leaned back in his chair and giving a low laugh, nodded his head. "Really, Booth? I've always jumped at the chance to make amends or admit that I may have misinterpreted some information, haven't you?"

Booth sniggered. "Oh, yeah. Right. Just ask Bones! She'll tell you just how good I am at that!" The two men smiled across the table at each other. Booth went on. "I think Pops is game to try; but, he doesn't really have any hope that anything is going to come of it."

Taking the cardboard tube and moving it onto his side of the table, the older agent shrugged his shoulders, "So this is going to be up to us. We have to get them together."

Nodding his head, Booth picked up his cup of coffee. Taking a sip, he placed the cup down and pointed to the tube, "I was thinking about that. What do you think about you going to see your Dad and show him what you found? Kind of set the stage for what comes next."

Curious, Gibbs asked, "And what comes next?"

Leaning back in his chair, Booth laid his arm across the back of the chair next to him, "I'm not sure, really. But, I think that the best chance we have of actually getting them together is if we somehow arrange for them meet. By accident, of course."

Smiling, he leaned forward and rested his arms on the table between them as he continued, "Pops and I kind of have this tradition, and I thought that might work to our advantage." He motioned between Jethro and himself. "Every year, on Memorial Day, Pops and I pack up a little picnic lunch, peanut butter sandwiches and cokes, and we go over to Arlington to visit the grave of one of his buddies, James Rawlings."

Booth looked up at his cousin and he shared the story. "Rawlings was killed during World War II. He and Pops were ambushed by some infiltrators during the Battle of the Bulge. Pops was pretty seriously wounded but Rawlings died of his injuries before help arrived. I don't know if you know his history, but, Pops lied about his age to get into the Army. He was only seventeen when he enlisted in 1944. He says that he looked older than he was and back then not everyone had birth certificates."

Booth paused and gave a thoughtful look. "Of course by '44 all of the services were willing to take just about anyone willing to sign up. His recruiter probably knew Pops was underage, but if he was willing to sign, they were willing to take him! Anyway, he took an aptitude test and they made a military policeman out of him. He and Rawlings were ambushed in December of that year. Pops had only been in the Army for eight months. He took the death of his friend kind of hard. He had to watch his friend die and there wasn't a thing he could do to help him. Pops says that Rawlings made him promise to visit him at least once a year and to eat peanut butter sandwiches and drink cokes in his honor. We've been doing that since I went to live with him and Gram."

Booth leaned back in his chair. "My Dad had his own tradition when I was small. We used to visit Westminster Cemetery in Bala Cynwyd and help with putting out the flags. Anyway, this is what Pops and I do now. My thought was that maybe there was a chance you could get your father to come out to Arlington on Memorial Day"

Gibbs glanced down at his clasped hands, then up at his cousin. "Well, my mother's brother, Harry, is buried at Arlington. I might be able to talk him into it. Every Memorial Day he usually drives over to Twins Hills Memorial Park in Muncy. He has some friends and a cousin buried there. I might be able to get him to come to D.C. to visit Uncle Harry's grave; but for that to happen I need to talk to him soon. I'd have to see if he's up to driving here or if I need to go and get him. First though, I will want him to see the charts and records and let him know that it wasn't his or anyone else's fault that their Dad died."

Nodding his head, Booth smiled, "Sounds like a plan. Since Pops already knows that we plan to try to get them together then the only sticking point we have is your Dad. If you can't get him to come to Arlington then we'll just come up with another plan. Right now this whole thing hinges on your power of persuasion."

Chuckling, Gibbs leaned back in his seat, "So, no pressure, eh? I'll just explain to my Dad that his father died in an accident and then find a way to get him to come to Arlington on Memorial Day. Yeah, piece of cake. Shouldn't be a problem."

Shrugging his shoulders, Booth smiled, "Hey, I did my part and I got Pops to agree to bury the hatchet with his brother. I can't do everything."

Shaking his head, Gibbs smiled at his cousin, "Apparently your grandfather isn't as stubborn as my old man."

Guffawing, Booth leaned forward and placed his hand on the table in front of him, "Jethro, that is probably the funniest thing you've said to me since we've met. Pops could teach classes in stubbornness to a mules!"

Sighing, Gibbs grimaced, "Well I guess we belong to the same club then because if you looked up the word obstinate in the dictionary you'd find a picture of my father."

Booth nodded his head. "I understand, Jethro. Believe me, I understand."

* * *

_Next chapter . . . . Gibbs and Jackson! ;-D_

_If you would like to know more about Memorial Day traditions (in the Bones fandom) then I invite you to read my story "Last Monday in May" (you can find it here: / s / 8157213 / 1 / Last-Monday-in-May) or the FaithInBones story "Memories" (you can find it here: / s / 8152910 / 1 / Memories). Since Fan Fiction dot net strips out URLs (yes, even their own!), you will have to remove the spaces before going to these links (or copy and paste the story number in place of the Castor and Pollux story number above)._

_This may be my chance to write a Memorial Day fic for the NCIS fandom . . . . hmmmmm, will have to think about that! What are your thoughts?_


	23. Chapter 23

_We don't own Bones. We don't own NCIS. We have no input with either HH&Co or Bellisario. But we have borrowed the characters temporarily for this little fiction – we hope you enjoy where we've taken them and what we've done with them._

_FaithInBones and I collaborated on this story. She has been posting in the Bones fandom, and I've been posting my first ever NCIS story here. This has been a change of pace for both of us, but we've had fun with it and appreciate those of you who have stuck with us and those of you who are just finding us._

_We're winding up the story now. The last few chapters are written (or sketched out awaiting some input from both of us to flesh them out). We are now (finally!) getting to the part of the story that answers the question, Are Gibbs and Booth related? Why does Gibbs' father look suspiciously like Booth's grandfather? What's going on here?_

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It was a fairly uneventful drive to Stillwater. Gibbs had run into the usual traffic snarls getting out of the District, it seemed like there was no longer any way to avoid them no matter what route was selected. But once he hit the B-W parkway, traffic was pretty clear heading north. Of course, there were the usual folks trying to get an early start on the weekend and up to their boats. Rounding Baltimore on the west side and just before he connected with the 83, he made a quick pit stop at an easy off and on exit and picked up a refill for his coffee. Cranking up the music on the car's CD player, he sang along to the 60's oldies blaring from the speakers. When he got to the Weisner State Forest exit he knew that he had the slowest but perhaps most pleasant part of the journey ahead of him. There was very little traffic, but the road from 81 up to Stillwater was a typical backwater road. With the windows down, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, he filled his lungs with a deep breath of the country air. "Just smells different out of the City," he reflected.

Gibbs always felt conflicted coming back to Stillwater. Although the relationship with his father had been improving, he was a little tentative about how his father was going to respond to meeting Hank after all these years of being focused on resenting his brother. Completing the four hour drive in a little over three and a half, Gibbs made a last pit stop on the outskirts of town, then headed over to his father's general store. As he approached the store he realized that he was looking for any evidence of the attack just a couple years previous. Pushing open the wooden and glass door, he glanced up at the old fashioned bell that still rang overhead. Spotting his father's head bent over the counter, he called out, "Hey, Old Man! How're you doing?"

"Jethro?" Jackson Gibbs looked up from the case of beans he was pricing. "What are you doing here?"

Ignoring the question, Gibbs took a quick look around the old store. "Are you ever going to retire, Dad? I thought you were going to sell the place."

Jackson frowned, "Why would I do that? It keeps me busy." He grinned. "And besides, son, it keeps me off the streets! What would I do with myself? Take up crocheting?"

Giving a low chuckle, Gibbs responded, "It was just a question, Dad, just a question! I'd think you'd be ready to leave all this behind and get some fishing in."

Pursing his lips, Jackson asked, "What are you doing here, Jethro? Did I know you were driving up today? I don't remember us talking about you heading up here. Is something wrong? Are you here on a case?"

Shaking his head, the younger man turned as the bell over the front door rang and a customer entered the store, "Nope. No problem, Dad. No case. I just thought I'd come visit for a day or so."

Suspicious, Jackson replied, "Uh, huh."

Both men turned and looked as the bell over the front door rang again. An older well-dressed woman stepped inside. Glancing at the front of the store she smiled and gave a small wave. "Jackson! Hello." Noticing the young man standing near the older man, she nodded her head and said, "Oh, I didn't realize you had a customer, Jackson. I'll find what I need over here."

Gibbs watched as she stepped down the back aisle and smiled to himself. Turning to his Dad he said, I thought I'd head on over to the Creekside in Orangeville for a bite to eat. Are you keeping the store open late tonight?"

Jackson pulled his eyes away from where the woman had disappeared and answered. "No. Not tonight. You have a good meal son. I'll see you back at the house later. If you get there before me, you know where I keep the spare key."

As he walked past the far aisle toward the door, Gibbs nodded at the older woman who seemed to be looking for something in the auto accessories area. "Do you need some help here, Ma'am? Can I help you find anything?"

Startled the woman looked up at the younger man. Blue eyes twinkling, she smiled and said, "Oh, no. I'm fine. Jackson can help me when he's not so busy. I'll be fine, you just go ahead and get whatever it is you need young man. Am I in your way?"

Gibbs smiled back. "No, ma'am. I was just stopping by to say hello. I'll let Jackson take care of you." He tipped his head towards his father and turned back toward the front door.

"I'll see you later, Dad. I'll meet you at the house. Want me to pick you up anything?"

Jackson shook his head as he responded, "No thanks. I've got a dinner date tonight. I'll be home around eight."

As Gibbs left the store and walked back to his car, he observed a man walk by who looked vaguely familiar, he smiled as he passed the other man. The pedestrian called out, "Nice to see you Jethro" and kept walking.

Frowning, Gibbs shrugged his shoulders, got into his car and slowly pulled out onto the road.

ooooo

Moving the coffee cups and ice cream dishes to the side of the table, Gibbs placed the cardboard tube on the tabletop. "Dad, I know you wonder why I drove up. I do have a reason for making the trip." Holding his hand up to stop his father from whatever retort he was preparing, Gibbs continued, "I did a little research, Dad. I know this isn't a topic you like to discuss, but I have some new information and I want to talk to you about the boating accident you were in as a boy, the one that caused your father's death."

Frowning Jackson shook his head, "Jethro. Please. I really would rather not talk about that anymore. I'm old and that story just makes me sad. A boy shouldn't lose his father like that."

Nodding his head, Gibbs pulled the top off the tube and pulled out the charts. Biting his lower lip, Gibbs responded, "I know it's a painful topic, Dad. But I've found some information that I think you need to hear. Please just listen to what I've found and then make up your mind. I think that I can prove that the boating accident really was an accident."

His interested piqued, Jackson responded, "Oh, and just how do you think that you are going to be able to prove that after 70 years? You have some kind of a time machine that I don't know about?"

Smiling slightly, the younger man shook his head, "No, Dad, but I might have the next best thing. I did some research. It's amazing what you can get through the internet these days. Anyway, I was able to find some charts that I'd like to show you." Moving the top chart around so that his father could see it, Gibbs pointed toward the top of the Bay. "You recognize this Dad. It's the Upper Chesapeake Bay. See, here's Aberdeen, Havre de Grace and Perryville right across the river where the Susquehanna comes in. This is a chart that you all would have had on the boat the week you, Hank, and your Dad went out on the Bay. Here, where I've put a red X on the chart, is where your wreck happened. The chart shows that it was considered open water and it should have allowed safe passage."

Peering at the chart, Jackson frowned, "I remember the chart, Son. Believe me, I remember the chart."

Pulling out a second chart from underneath and laying it on top, "Okay, this chart was printed the year after your accident. If you'll look where your accident occurred, it shows an underwater obstruction. What you didn't know, what your father didn't know was that a 30' sail boat sank in that area a week before you guys went out on the water. You can see from the depth of the water and the size of the boat that sank that the boat's mast would have been just below the water. When you drove the boat over that area, the bottom of your boat must have been holed by the mast. I'm pretty sure that this is what caused the wreck of your boat. This is what caused your boat to sink. I want you to see that you didn't do anything wrong. The death of your father was caused by a real accident and it wasn't anything you did wrong, Dad. It wasn't your fault."

Surprised at the new information, Jackson studied both charts, moving his index finger over each chart, studying the route he remembered taking from the marina that morning. Finally satisfied, he looked at his son, "I'll be damned."

Studying his father, Gibbs saw the war of emotions playing across the older man's face. He realized that even though this didn't change the past it did change something in his father.

Jackson, patting the charts, reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Wiping a tear from his face, he looked at his son. "You're sure these are accurate, Jethro?" Raising his eyes to look at his son's nod, he shook his head as he continued. "That's . . . that's . . . that's a lot to process, son. I . . ." giving a deep sigh, he sat back in his chair. "Thank God. Jethro all of these years I was so certain that I'd done something to cause the death of my father and now I find out that it wasn't my fault after all. Thank God." Wiping another tear from his face, Jackson smiled at his son, "Thank you. Thank you for showing me this."

Smiling, Gibbs reached over and patted his father's hand. "I wish I'd looked into this sooner, Dad."

Shaking his head, Jackson cleared his throat, "No, no that's okay. I never thought about researching it either. I just assumed that I caused the accident. I know Hank thought it was my fault and I didn't have any reason to believe otherwise." Staring at the charts, he asked, "What made you research this now?"

Watching his father rub his finger against the site of the wreck on the chart, Gibbs replied, "I had a case come up at work. You may remember that I told you about it. I wound up working with FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth."

Looking up, Jackson frowned, "Seeley Booth as in Hank's grandson, Seeley? That Seeley Booth?"

Nodding his head, Gibbs smiled, "Dad. Do you really think there could be more than one Seeley Booth in this world?" He chuckled. "Yes, Dad, that Seeley Booth. While we were working on the case we talked about family. We talked about his Dad and Mom, and we talked about you and Hank. We both had heard a little bit about the wreck, but we'd each only heard one side of the story. We had a lot of time to talk on our drives to and from Chesapeake while we were working the case. Anyway, I put some of the information he gave me together with what I knew. Something just didn't quite add up. So, I decided to look into it and that's when I found out about the wreck of the sail boat."

Curious, Gibbs father asked, "How did you and Seeley get along?"

Smiling, Gibbs responded, "At first not so well. His Dad had been a little bit less than truthful with him about some stuff and it was a little dicey at first. But we were able to talk it over and get everything straightened out. He's a pretty good egg. He's head of Major Crimes for the FBI in the District area. He lives with the author Temperance Brennan." Catching the surprised look on Jackson's face, Gibbs smiled. "I thought you would know who that is, I've seen her books around here, so I know you know who I'm talking about."

Jackson chuckled. "No kidding. I love Temperance Brennan's books. So you mean my grand nephew is married to her? Wow!"

Shaking his head, Gibbs replied, "Nah, they aren't married. Apparently she doesn't believe in marriage; but they are living together. They have a daughter named Christine. Seeley also has a son from a previous relationship, Parker. I've not met him yet, but Christine is a little heartbreaker. It'll be fun to watch him as she grows up! Seeley's a nice guy, Dad. A nice guy, and a good agent."

Smiling, Jackson leaned over and patted his son's shoulder, "That's great, son. I mean it. I've been kind of worrying about you lately. I mean when I'm gone you aren't going to have any family left. Now that I see that you're in contact with Seeley then I guess I don't have to worry about that anymore. You'll have some family when I'm gone."

Reaching for the charts, Gibbs pulled them closer to him and started rolling them up. "Dad, do you think you'd like to talk to Hank about this new information? This might be a chance for the two of you to finally make up."

Shaking his head, Jackson replied, "No, Jethro. It's too late. We're old and I just can't see Hank letting go of that hate he has for me. Not after seventy years. Let's just let it alone. You let me off the hook by letting me know I didn't kill my father and I'll always be grateful for that son, really; but, Hank and me? We are never going to get together, not after all this time."

Sighing, Gibbs slipped the charts into the tube, "Don't you want to try? At least call him and tell him about the charts. I'll bet he'd like to know about it."

Shaking his head again, Jackson replied, "No, I don't want to try. Why break my heart all over again?"

Placing the charts aside, Gibbs responded, "Dad, look, what if I told you that Seeley told Hank about the accident and he accepts that you weren't at fault?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Jackson glanced at the table, "It's too late for us, Jethro. It's been too long. I don't want to reopen old wounds. Just let it go, please?"

Sighing, Gibbs stared at the ceiling, "Okay Dad. If that's what you want." Glancing back at this father, Gibbs asked, "Hey, what do you have planned for Memorial Day? I thought you and I could visit Uncle Harry at Arlington this year. I'm the only one who ever visits him and I think it would be nice if you came with me this year. It's been awhile since you've been down to see me. Besides, it would give you a chance to get away from the store. Get a little taste of what retirement might be like. What do you say?"

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_Thanks again for reading our story. If you would like to read more by FaithInBones, she is user 3100408. If you would like to read more of my stories, you can get to them by clicking on my name at the top of this page. _

_Please take a minute to leave us a review for this chapter. We only know that we are headed in the right direction if we hear from you. _


	24. Chapter 24

_I'm sure that by now you've figured out that we do not own NCIS and we do not own Bones. But we are having fun with the characters and appreciate being able to borrow them for this little fic. We hope you are enjoying the journey, as well._

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Stirring his coffee, Booth lifted his eyes from the cup in front of him and smiled at his cousin sitting across the table, "So he agreed to come down for the holiday, eh? That's great. I guess your old man isn't as stubborn as you thought he was."

Smirking, Gibbs replied, "Yeah, not stubborn at all! Of course, you weren't there, so you have no idea what I had to do to get him to agree to come down to the District for the holiday. He has his own Memorial Day traditions and it was like beating a dead horse to make him change his plans."

Puzzled, Brennan looked at the man sitting across the table from her and asked, "Dead horse? Why would you want to beat a dead horse?"

Not missing a beat, Booth turned to the woman sitting next to him, "It means his father is extremely stubborn, Bones."

Having become familiar with Temperance's literal interpretation of idioms, Gibbs nodded his head and explained further, "My father is probably the most stubborn man you'll ever meet. I've never met anyone quite as muleish once he sets his mind to something."

Laughing, Brennan shook her head, "That's very funny. I . . ." Stopping at the puzzled look on Gibbs' face, Brennan frowned, "Oh, you were serious. You . . ."

Shaking his head, Gibbs responded, "Now I don't think I understand. . ."

Holding up his hand, Booth tried to interrupt his cousin, "Jethro, you don't want to . . ."

Interrupting Booth, Brennan looked between the two men. "From what I've observed, obstinacy clearly is a family trait. I. . ."

Smiling, Booth reached over and squeezed Brennan's knee, "Yes, we've got it. Pot and kettle." He chuckled at the confused look on her face and explained further. "Jethro was the pot calling the kettle black."

Puzzled, Brennan looked between the two men and replied, "I don't know what that means."

Laughing, Gibbs picked up his mug and raised it in Booth's direction before taking a sip. "I can see how you would think that, Temperance. Other than my Dad, I don't know that I've ever seen anyone quite as stubborn as Seeley here."

Booth gave Gibbs a look of incredulity. "Really, Jethro? That's how you want to play this? I seem to recall a recent sporting event in which . . . "

Gibbs shook his head. "Oh, you're going to go there? You know that I've always been a University of Michigan fan. I can't help it if your team was made such a poor showing that. . . . "

With a smile on his face, Booth held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, Jethro, Okay. Let's just say the sun has set and we can call it a day. We'll agree to disagree without being disagreeable."

Brennan smiled fondly at the banter between the two men. "So what part do a pot and kettle play in this whole scenario?"

Booth chuckled and looked at his cousin then back at his partner. "It means you were right, Bones. It means you were right."

With what might have been mistaken for a look of smugness if someone hadn't seen the quirk of a smile at the edge of her mouth, Brennan replied, "I usually am." She nodded her head, and picked up her glass and took a sip of tea.

Booth smiled at his partner, then turned his direction back across the table in an attempt to get the conversation back on track, , "So, is Jackson going to drive down or are you going to go and get him?"

Placing his cup back on the table, Gibbs frowned, "Dad says the drive from Stillwater is too much for him. After driving up there this past weekend, I really understand. He's used to a little slower pace on the roads and is not comfortable driving in city traffic. Right now the plan is that I'll drive up to Stillwater tomorrow and bring him down here. It'll be a day of driving, but I'll only have him in the car with me in one direction, so it won't be quite as challenging." He grinned. "I guess we need to fix a time and place to accidentally run into you guys at Arlington on Monday."

Nodding his head, Booth fiddled with his coffee mug. "Pops and I are usually at the gravesites at about ten or so. The wreath laying at the Tomb is scheduled for 11:00, but since they ask that people attending the ceremony arrive no later than 9:30, we can avoid most of the traffic. We used to go to the Tomb, but Pops gets tired more easily these days and with the number of people, the early arrival, the wait until the service starts, it is all just too exhausting for him these days. So we'veadjusted our schedule, and head in the gate a little before ten and then we can just head right over to the section where James Rawlings is buried. Bones and Christine will be with us this year, and Parker is supposed to be with us for the weekend so he'll be with us, too. It will be a little larger group than usual." He grinned and glanced at the woman sitting next to him. He reached out and placed his hand over hers. "Bones and Parker both know about Hank and Jackson and they don't want to miss the reunion."

Smiling, the older agent responded, "Yeah, and the group will be even a little larger than that. Besides Dad, Abby Sciuto is going to join us. She's a friend of mine and she's been going to Arlington with me the last few years. She has a second cousin buried there; so, we visit Donny Sciuto and then we walk over and visit my Uncle Harry."

Curious, Brennan asked, "Isn't Abby the forensic specialist at Naval Criminal Investigative Service?"

Nodding his head, Gibbs answered, "Yeah, we've worked together for over 10 years now. Our relationship is one of those that has moved to a little more than normal colleagues." Gibbs smiled at the skeptical look on Temperance's face. "Not like that, Temperance!" He took on a look of seriousness as he continued. "She's come to be almost like a daughter to me, although I would appreciate it if you didn't mention that to her. She's very sentimental and I don't want to add to it."

Brennan smiled back at the man across the table. She had the realization that she was not only becoming fond of Jethro, but how grateful she was for the relationship that was building between the two men with whom she was sharing the table.

Booth stared out of the window next to the table and sighed. "I guess I'm going to have to make a lot more peanut butter sandwiches this year! But I bet that James Rawlings is going to be pretty happy to have so many visitors!"

Holding up his hand, Gibbs shook his head, "I don't want to interfere with your Memorial Day tradition, Booth. We can leave before you have your little picnic, or we can arrive a little later, if that works better."

Shaking his head, Booth frowned, "No way, Jethro. If your father hasn't killed Pops by then or vice versa, then we'll have our little picnic for James. Pops said James loved people so I'm pretty sure he'd love the additional company."

Concerned, Brennan looked questionably at Booth and asked, "You do remember that James Rawlings is dead, don't you? He's not there, Booth. It's just bones."

Booth rolled his eyes, but smiled. "Yes, Bones. He's dead. That doesn't mean he isn't looking down from heaven and watching us."

Frowning, Brennan responded, "Yes it does. He's dead."

Puzzled, Gibbs asked Brennan, "Clearly you don't believe in the after-life, Temperance. Why are you going go to the cemetery to visit Hank's friend?"

Sipping her tea, Brennan answered, "I'm not going to Arlington to visit James. I am going so that I may pay proper respects to a fallen soldier and because it is important to Booth. I am also doing it to honor Booth's beliefs and his dedication to fallen soldiers. He deserves my respect and my support even though I don't believe in an after-life or heaven or hell. Booth believes, so I will be there to support him."

Nodding his head, Gibbs smiled at his cousin's partner. "Good answer."

Leaning over and kissing her cheek, Booth smiled, "Bones is one in a million, Jethro. I'm a lucky man."

Winking at Booth, Gibbs responded, "You sure are."

_ooooo_

Gibbs looked around as he walked into the Lab and found Abby sitting at her desk, scanning something on her laptop. Gibbs made a slight detour and turned the stereo volume lowerthen made his way over to her desk. "Abs, I don't know how you can listen to that stuff and not bleed out of your ears."

Smiling, Abby looked up from her monitor, "Gee, Gibbs that's Alice Cooper. You can't tell me that you've never heard of him. He's four years older than you are."

Sighing, Gibbs ignored the comment. "I wanted to give you a head's up about our trip to Arlington this year. I'm heading up to Stillwater tomorrow and I'll bring Dad down to stay with me for the weekend and probably a few days intonext he'll be going to the cemetery with us."

Abby grinned. "That's great, Gibbs! I can't wait to see Jackson again. Does he know that I go with you to Arlington?"

"Not yet," Gibbs nodded his head as he replied. "But that's a good idea to let him know." At her questioning look, he continued. "So, I think that I shared with you that the FBI agent that we worked the Van Pelt case with is my cousin, right?"

"Agent Booth, right?" Abby smiled. "Yes, I think that's great. I really liked him and his partner, Dr. Brennan was way cool. And it was great fun working with Dr. Hodgins and Wendall Bray! I was going to call Angela about Wendall. He's kind of cute, don't you think? I thought I'd check to see if he's . . . " Seeing the smirk on Gibbs face, she stopped. "What? Oh. You were going to tell me something else, right?"

"Yeah, but I am interested in following where you were headed." Seeing her shake her head, Gibbs continued, "My Dad and Seeley's grandfather Hank are brothers. Twins, actually. They haven't seen each other for nearly 70 years. Seeley and I have been talking and I don't know how this is going to work, but we're going to accidentally run into Agent Booth and his family at the Cemetery. We're hoping to at least start to resolve this feud they both seem so invested in maintaining. It's entirely possible that we may ignite Armageddon at Arlington on Memorial Day."

"Is that why you had me do the research on those old charts from the USGS a few weeks ago, Gibbs?" Noting his nod of agreement, she continued. "I didn't know those had anything to do with Jackson or his brother. That is way cool, Gibbs. I'm in! I wouldn't miss this for anything! Count me in, I'll be there."

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_If you are enjoying this little fic, if you enjoyed this chapter, please take a moment to leave a review. Thank you._


	25. Chapter 25 - Memorial Day

_A/N: Both FaithInBones and I are proud daughters of veterans who have served in wartime. My father enlisted in the U.S. Army on December 4, 1941 and served in the South Pacific through World War II with the 41__st__ Infantry Division. FaithInBones' father was "a 20 year man" and served in Korea and Vietnam._

_In honor of Memorial Day and the men and women who have served our country, we wanted to offer this chapter of our story to the fandom. The timing seemed right, as you may see when you read this chapter.  
_

_For those of you who have served or are serving, for those of you who have family members who have served or are serving, in the U.S. armed forces, please accept our heart-felt thanks for your service. And now, we offer this little peek at four veterans: Hank Booth, Jackson Gibbs, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and Seeley Booth._

_We own neither NCIS nor Bones, but we've sure had fun with this little adventure. Thank you for coming along for the ride!_

_The final chapter of this little adventure will post this Friday._

___ (rmcfox, you have PM turned off, so I couldn't respond to your review, but here is the Memorial Day story you requested)_

___._

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**Memorial Day**

Helping his grandfather off the path and towards the oak tree near James Rawlings grave, Booth smiled, "We're lucky that James' grave is this close to the oak tree. It's pretty warm today."

Rolling his eyes, Hank Booth responded, "You say that every year, Seeley. You'd think this was Iraq the way you go on about how hot it is."

Glancing back at Parker, Booth set down the small cooler he carried, "Parker, if you could set up the lawn chairs under the tree, I'd appreciate it. Bones, there's a fairly flat area for the blanket for you and Christine. We're lucky this oak tree is so big. The shade is pretty deep."

Everyone carried out their assignments, Booth and Hank waited until Parker finished setting up the chair and when it was open and leveled, Booth helped his grandfather over and tried to help him get settled.

Brushing off his grandson's arm, Hank grumbled, "Alright, alright, I'm not helpless yet. I can sit in a chair without your help."

Stepping back, Booth watched his grandfather get comfortable in the chair. Making sure that the chair was steady, Booth turned and looked at the neat row of nearby tombstones. The American flags, planted in front of each stone were flapping in the gentle wind. Overcome by the emotions he always felt in the setting, Booth glanced at Brennan,

"Okay, I'm going to go over and check on Teddy. I see Claire is already here. I want to go over and say hello."

Nodding her head, Brennan sat on the blanket and made sure that Christine's bonnet was covering her head properly. Her daughter had been fussy earlier and kept pulling it off of her head. Parker stood next to Hank's chair and read the names on the tombstones in front of them. Finally seeing James's gravestone, Parker pointed , "I see Corporal Rawlings grave. It's between to Cyril Feight and Daniel Snyder."

Looking at his friend's stone, Hank smiled, "Yeah, that's the one. That James was a real character. You'd have liked him Parker. He had a great sense of humor and made friends with everyone he met. I'm sure if he'd have lived he would have eventually gone into politics. He really wanted to change the world."

Curious, Parker asked, "How come no else is here is to visit with Corporal Rawlings?"

Hank gave his great-grandson a solemn look as he replied, "James didn't have any family when he died, Parker. All he has is me and Seeley. That's the way it is with a lot of these fine soldiers buried here, Son. World War II was a long time ago and a lot the families have died out or they're not living in the area. Some are just too old to visit. It's a shame really; but, James has me until I pass and Seeley has promised me that he'll keep up the tradition of visiting when I'm gone."

Concerned, Parker placed his hand on his great-grandfather's arm, "Don't worry, Pops, I'll help Dad with the tradition. I promised him that I'd visit Teddy Parker once a year; so, I can visit your Corporal Rawlings too."

Patting Parker's hand, Hank smiled, "Thank you, Parker, you're a good boy. I appreciate your promise. It takes a weight off of my mind."

Looking around, Parker spied his father walking back towards them. Seeing someone approaching along the path they'd just walked, Parker felt his jaw drop, "Oh my goodness, Pops! Look at that. If you weren't sitting here next to me, I would think that was you walking with those people over there. He looks just like you! Do you know him? Who do you think he is?"

Curious, Pops looked around to see where Parker was staring and saw his brother, a younger man and even younger woman approaching the oak tree. Hank turned and looked at the young woman and child sitting under the tree. He inhaled deeply as he turned back to the group moving in their direction. "Okay, Tempe, it looks like our company is here. Now I hope this goes well, but if it doesn't then I don't want you or Seeley getting upset. It's going to be what it's going to be."

Standing, Brennan held Christine in her arms and watched the trio get closer. Booth, spying his cousin, grand-uncle and Abby, jogged over to the shade tree. Arriving next to Hank, Booth sighed, "Okay, Pops, it's show time."

Gibbs, grimaced and shrugged his shoulders at his cousin and the others standing next to the oak tree. He started moving off of the path and gently steered his father towards the others. Abby, aware of what was coming up, held back and watched with trepidation as Gibbs and his father approached the group.

Noticing the small crowd in front of him, Jackson turned and commented to his son, "Looks like we may have company, Jethro."

Sighing, Gibbs smiled nervously, "Yep. Dad, looks like we do."

As they got closer to the oak tree, Jackson realized that the older gentleman, standing with the help of a cane, had a very familiar face. Stopping, Jackson pursed his lips, "Jethro, what the hell did you do?"

Rubbing his forehead, Gibbs responded, "I wanted to give you the chance to talk to your brother one more time before it's too late. Please give it a chance, Dad, for me."

Exhaling sharply, Jackson glared at his son, "We're going to talk about you interfering in my life later."

Nodding his head, Gibbs bit his lower lip. Under his breath, he muttered, "I'm sure we will."

Stepping closer to his brother, Jackson tried to school his features into an unemotional mask. Hank, seeing the blank look on his brother's face, nodded his head, "Hello, Jackson."

Stopping a few feet from his brother, Jackson nodded his head, "Hank."

Shrugging his shoulders, Hank stepped closer to his brother, "I'm just going to say it, I'm sorry Jackson. I really am. Seeley showed me some charts a few weeks ago and I know that Jethro has shown them to you. I didn't know. I should have checked into the accident a long time ago and I didn't. I'm sorry for that and I'm sorry for blaming you all these years for something you didn't do."

Surprised, Jackson nodded his head, "Thanks Hank. I can't let all be on you though. I should have looked into the wreck. I just assumed the same thing you did. I thought I killed Dad."

Glancing down and then back up toward his brother, Hank continued, "Yeah, well, I'm sorry about that too. I should never have blamed you for Dad's death to begin with. He didn't die because of the boat accident. He died because we didn't have enough life vests on the boat. I can't blame you for that and I shouldn't have in the first place. I was just so . . . I was . . . Anyways, I'm sorry. What I did was wrong."

Suddenly moving closer to his brother, Jackson put his arms around Hank and hugged him, "Thank you Hank. You don't know how times I've wanted to talk to you over the years. I've missed having you in my life; but, I knew you hated me and I was afraid you were still mad and would reject me."

Patting his brother's back, Hank nodded his head, "Yeah, fact is, I probably would have. Seeley tells me I'm stubborn as a mule and I guess there are times when I am." He chuckled, "I can't blame you though. I was a real ass and I'm sorry for that."

Releasing his brother, Jackson wiped his hand across his eyes, "So, is this your family, Hank? How about you introduce me to these fine people."

Turning, Hank pointed at Booth, "That big one there is my grandson, Seeley. I'm sure you've been hearing about him from Jethro there, since they've been working on a case together, and . . ." looking between the two younger men, "apparently they've been working on another plan together as well!" Although he tried to give a stern look to his grandson, his eyes twinkled as he talked.

Jackson nodded as Hank continued, "This handsome youngster is Seeley's son, Parker. You may recognize the beautiful woman with the baby. She is a very well known author, you may have read some of her books?" At Jackson's nod, Hank finished the introductions. "This is Temperance Brennan, Seeley's girlfriend and that beautiful little girl she is holding is their daughter Christine."

Smiling Jackson waved his hand a little, "It's nice meeting you folks." Turning, Jackson stared at Gibbs and Abby, "So, I guess you know my son Jethro and his adopted daughter, Abby."

Harumphing, Gibbs responded, "I have not adopted Abby, Dad. She's a friend. A colleague."

Smirking, Jackson turned back to his brother, "Yeah, okay, if you say so. So, Hank, who are you visiting here?"

Turning and pointing to James Rawlings grave, Hank replied, "My buddy, James Rawlings. He died during the Battle of the Bulge. I lied to get into join the Army. Probably one of the best decision that I made in my life. Anyway, James and I were military policemen together in France and Germany."

Nodding his head, Jackson smiled, "Yeah, I lied about my age to get into the Army Air Corps. I flew a P-51. I did escort duty for bombers over Germany."

Impressed, Hank whistled, "I'm impressed! I hate flying. You couldn't get me in a plane with a gun to my head."

Shrugging his shoulders, Jackson remarked, "I love planes. I don't fly anymore; but, when I was younger, I loved to get up in the air."

Booth, moved over to where the older men were talking, "I don't want to interrupt you two but I wanted to let you know that there are a couple of lawn chairs under the tree if you want to get out of the sun."

Rolling his eyes, Hank laughed, "My grandson has an obsession about the sun and shade trees. God forbid I stand in the sun too long. Actually," he glanced at the people around them and over at Jackson. "Would you like to take a short walk, Jackson? We could chat a bit without an audience." Sensing that his grandson was going to give an argument he gave Booth a stern look, "Don't you start on me young man. There are some things old soldiers need to say to each other and we don't need an audience."

Brennan reached over and placed a hand on Booth's arm. "Let them have their time, Booth. It will be what it will be and we are nearby if either of them needs our assistance." She smiled at the anxious man standing beside her.

"Okay, Pops; but, if either of you need anything . . . Anything, you let me know and Jethro or I will be right there." Booth couldn't keep the concern out of his voice.

Nodding at the group gathered under the tree the two men turned toward the path taking them over toward the next section of the cemetery.

Gibbs and Booth moved a ways down the path behind the two men then stood and watched as their heads bent towards each other, the two older men made their way amongst the tombstones of the fallen heroes with whom each had served.

"Well, that went a bit better than I expected." Gibbs looked at the younger man standing next to him as he wiped his cheek.

Booth cleared his throat and looked off in the other direction. "Yeah, but the day isn't over yet, is it?" He looked back at the man next to him and smiled, "I think we did well. Of course you know we are still going to catch hell for this when they have us alone, don't you?"

Gibbs smiled, "Oh yeah."

Suddenly Gibbs gave a start. "Booth, do you see that guy over there?" He motioned toward a man about Booth's age standing behind the two older men on the pathway. "I think I saw him outside of Dad's store when I was in Stillwater last week. He said hello to me and I thought at the time that he looked familiar, but . . ."

Booth looked in the direction Gibbs was indicating. "That fellow there?" Booth took in the dress of the man. He was wearing a pair of beige trousers and a white dress shirt. The sleeves were rolled up but there was a sense of formality about his attire. He wore a straw fedora with a side dented crown, the front of the brim snapped down and the back snapped up. "He's a little oddly dressed, isn't he?" Booth asked, "He almost looks like . . . " He glanced over at this cousin. "Jethro he looks like the man in the picture that Pops has in his bedroom. It's a picture of Jackson and Hank when they were boys." He swallowed hard. "With their Dad."

Jethro looked from the man standing on the side of the path watching the older men. "I think I know that picture you're talking about. Dad has the same picture hanging in the back hallway of his store. Near the pictures of Kelly and Shannon." He turned to look at his cousin. "You don't think . . ."

Booth took a step towards the stranger as the man turned and appeared to take in the small family gathering under the oak tree. Smiling at the two men standing off by themselves, he reached up and tipped his hat at the two men then turned and walked in the opposite direction from the two veterans making their way among the tombstones. As the two younger men watched from near the oak tree, the man seemed to fade away.

Gibbs swallowed hard then nearly inaudibly uttered, "Tell me you saw that Booth."

Booth stared at where he had last seen the stranger and replied, "Only if you don't tell anyone about it, ever."

Taking a deep breath, Gibbs turned and moved back toward the group under the tree. "Deal!"

Booth echoing his cousin's sentiments, replied, "Deal it is." Moving back under the tree, he clapped his hands and called out, "Okay, everyone! We have peanut butter sandwiches and cokes too. It's a family tradition."

Smiling, Abby responded, "Sounds like a very nice tradition."

Puzzled by Booth and Gibb's nervous demeanor, Brennan moved to stand next to Booth, "Is something wrong?"

Rubbing the side of his head, Booth placed his arm around Brennan, "Not at all. Did I tell you that I love you today?"

Smiling, Brennan leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, "You know you did. I'm glad Hank and Jackson buried the past."

Staring back to where the stranger had faded away, Booth smiled, "Yeah, the past should stay in the past."

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_Thank you for following, favoriting, and commenting on our story. After writing nearly 50,000 words in our story, we would love to receive a few of yours! ;-D_


	26. Chapter 26

_A/N: We own neither NCIS or Bones. We borrowed them and had a little fun combining both worlds. This is our final chapter in the little journey we've been on . . . we hope you've enjoyed the ride._

_I want to say how much I appreciate the NCIS fandom being as welcoming as you've been. This is the only story I've published for NCIS and I wasn't quite sure how it would be received. I appreciate those of you who have taken the time to leave a review. As I've said before, even if you haven't reviewed, I consider favorites and follows to be positive reviews!_

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Sitting in a back booth of Bob and Edith's diner, just down the road from the back gate of Arlington National Cemetery, Booth studied the menu while Gibbs watched his father and uncle in a booth at the other end of the refurbished railroad car. The two men seemed to be engrossed in their conversation.

Parker, scanned the menu then looked up and blurted out, "Dad! Did you see that they have scrapple? I wonder if it's any good here."

Looking at the menu, Booth asked, "When Charlie recommended this place, he said that everything on the menu is good. I guess we'll see, eh? Now where did you see the scrapple?"

"Over here." Parker pointed at his menu "See, under breakfast side orders."

Smiling, Booth grined, "Hey, you're right. But, you don't really want anything to eat do you? What about just a piece of pie? Charlie said they have good pie!" Booth grinned. "Besides," he continued, "You just had a peanut butter sandwich and a coke an hour ago."

Shrugging his shoulders, Parker smiled, "I'm still hungry, Dad."

Glancing at Brennan, Booth asked, "Do you want to eat some lunch here, Bones? I mean, Parker is right, one peanut butter sandwich isn't really lunch."

Helping Christine, Brennan cautiously held the glass up for her daughter to sip. She smiled at the young man sitting at the end of the table. "Parker does have a big appetite, and it was just a sandwich. If you are going to order something other than pie, then I'll have a garden salad."

Nodding his head, Booth studied the menu, "Should we get something for Christine? I can order an egg sandwich for her and I'll finish what she doesn't eat."

Abby, looked at Gibbs over the top of the menu and asked, "What do you think they're talking about?"

Studying his father's face, Gibbs shrugged his shoulders, "God knows. They haven't talked to each other for nearly seventy years. They have plenty to talk about. They're probably talking about the past."

_ooooo_

Glancing over to where his son was sitting with the Booth-Brennan family, Jackson turned his gaze back to his brother, "Our boys think they're so smart. They're probably over there giving each other pats on the back for getting us together."

Chuckling, Hank sipped his coffee, "Maybe they deserve to give each other a pat on the back, Jackson. I'm pretty sure that they performed a miracle, don't you?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Jackson moved his coffee cup towards his lips, "Yeah, I guess." He smiled. "Still they don't have to be so darn smug about it." Taking a drink of the hot brew, he put his cup back down, and sat back against the booth. "You know, Hank, I kept track of you as best as I could through Uncle Henry. He talked to my mother once a month and she'd pass on anything interesting he had heard about you. That worked fine until Mom died. After that it was a little more challenging. Then when Jethro looked up Joseph in the 70's when he was stationed in Philadelphia, I gather that they talked frequently and got each other caught up on family news. Jethro knew I was interested, so he passed on the family news to me when he had any. Of course, then he was transferred to South Korea and they lost touch; so, it was hit and miss about the information I got then. I even subscribed to the Philadelphia Inquirer for a time."

Laughing, Hank shook his head, "It wasn't just that Jethro was transferred. Joseph was a hard man. We'll talk about it sometime, I don't want to go there today." He smiled fondly at his brother. "But it's funny about you and the Phillie paper, 'cause I subscribed to the paper out of Bloomsburg so I could keep track of you. You and your son were mentioned in the paper a few times. I wasn't anyone important so I can't imagine I was ever in the Inquirer, well except when Marie died."

Shaking his head, Jackson responded, "Well, no, you were inthere when you retired from the Philadelphia Police Department. Joseph was mentioned when he was awarded the purple heart in Vietnam and Seeley was mentioned for some of his high school sports and then I knew when he went into the Rangers. Of course there was a lot of coverage when he was rescued from the Iraqi Republican Guard." Jackson looked down at the table, then raised his eyes to meet his brothers suddenly somber look. "I really wanted to reach out when I read about that, Hank. I felt guilty that we weren't in touch. I don't know how you felt about it Hank, but, I cannot tell you how many times I started to reach for the phone and then decided against it, thinking that I'd just be rebuffed."

Reaching his hand across the table, Hank placed it on top of Jackson's hand, "Jackson, I am so sorry that I let my mule headedness keep us apart. I just . . . I just took Dad's death so hard and I guess I just needed someone to blame and you were it. It wasn't fair. I realize that now. I really am sorry."

Shaking his head, Jackson smiled, "You know, Hank, I think we just have to let it go. While I'm not sure we should let them know it just yet, I'm grateful to our boys for what they did. I'm not sure you noticed," Jackson's eyes twinkled as he glanced over at the table where the rest of the family sat trying to be surreptitious as they watched the two men. "But I think they're just a tad nervous about what's going on over here at our table."

Hank gave a low chuckle. "Yeah, I know they weren't sure how this would go. Hell! Jackson, I wasn't sure how it would go! What do you say, we let them off the hook, eh?"

Jackson looked across the table at his brother. Trying to hold his emotions in check, he smiled. "Yeah. I was gonna' suggest that we keep them in the dark for awhile, but you're right, Hank. What they did was a good thing. For us and for them. I'm grateful to have you back in my life. We have some catching up to do, and they do as well. Let's get to it!"

_ooooo_

Watching Hank pat Jackson's hand, Booth smiled, "I think we did well, Jethro. I think we did really well."

Glancing at the two older men sitting at the other end of the diner, and reading their body language, Gibbs smiled, "I think you're right, Booth. We did good."

Abby watched as the waitress placed a plate before Booth and he poured maple syrup over this slice of scrapple then cut off a piece with a fork. "Isn't that meat?"

Placing the piece in his mouth, Booth answered around his mouthful, "Yep."

Puzzled, Abby had to ask, "Why did you put maple syrup on it? I mean, syrup and meat wouldn't be two combinations I'd think of."

Parker, laughed, pointed at his scrapple, "Pops says this isn't really meat since it has cornmeal in it."

Frowning, Abby asked, "It's meat and cornmeal."

Swallowing his forkful of porky delight, Booth responded, "Well, its cornmeal and onions and meat. The meat is the left over bits of the pig." He grinned at the looks on the faces of Abby and Bones. "You know, the parts they can't really sell in the stores."

Grimacing, Abby placed her hand over her mouth, "Oh. Yummy."

Laughing, Gibbs remarked, "Now, now, Abby. Don't be such a snob. Scrapple is the German version of Boudin. Scrapple is made with cornmeal and boudin is made with rice. Of course, it's still the left over bits of the pig. Besides, you eat Hog Heads cheese."

Puzzled, Abby asked, "What's wrong with Hog Heads cheese."

Shuddering, Booth shook his head, "You couldn't pay me to eat that stuff."

Shaking her head, Brennan remarked, "You have no idea how happy I am that I'm a vegetarian."

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_Faith in Bones and I want to thank each of you that took time out of your day to read our story. It's been nearly six months of emailing chapters back and forth, late night editing, checking traffic stats, reading reviews, etc. We enjoyed the collaboration._

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